No Chance
by clumsy.carrie
Summary: Sera just wanted to get through her 1st year at Hogwarts...but with best friends like James Sirius Potter and Louis Weasley,she never had a chance.Now she's worried about actually surviving: someone's after her,and will stop at nothing to hurt her NEXTGEN
1. Bad Day

Serafina Finnigan.

Who the _hell_ names their child that? I mean, other than, obviously, my parents. Who are obviously _complete morons_. Because, let's be honest here, my name sounds like a character in a children's book. And the worst part is?

They're announcing it _in front of the entire Great Hall_. Everyone in Hogwarts will hear my name when they call me up to be sorted and they will laugh. And I'll forever be pegged as that girl with so silly a name that no one could even be friends with her. Maybe they'll laugh so hard they won't hear the sorting hat and they'll just send me home and claim the sorting hat just couldn't find a place for me.

That was all I could think about as I stood in my living room, my arms crossed over my chest in irritation as my family tried to maneuver my small house with my massive trunk sitting in the middle of it. My Dad's best friend's son, Alec, sat on the trunk, looking irritated as he studied the book in his hands.

"I can't believe you didn't do your summer homework before today." I said, smirking, and Alec didn't even spare me the glare I thought he would have bothered with.

"You just wait," He mumbled tiredly, rubbing at his eyes in fatigue as he struggled to keep his gaze on his book. "Until you've got summer work. And then I'll just laugh and laugh and laugh while you work on the train."

Alec was a full seven weeks older than me, and one year ahead of me in Hogwarts. He'd lorded it over me ever since he'd gotten his Hogwarts acceptance letter: he was right on the brink of being too young for his year, and there'd been some question on whether he'd be my year or ahead of me. And, of course, we could have called the Headmistress and talked to her about it, but both Dad and Dean were such lazy lumps when it came to these things that we'd decided it'd be easiest to wait out. And Alec had been irritating ever since.

Alec looked a lot like his dad—the dark skin, the dark hair—but had uncommonly light eyes for someone of his coloring: his mom's bright blue eyes, and his lack of height made me sure that someone noticed he was not only Dean Thomas's child, but Monica Selwyn's as well.

"You'll have summer work then too, genius," I retorted, but Alec ignored me in his new too-superior, holier-than-thou way, and I rolled my eyes, stepping on top of then over my trunk and moving into the kitchen, where most of the people in my house spent most of their time. Of course, having a teenage brother sort of ensured that he spent most of his time in the kitchen, and since it was a generally acknowledged fact that he was the good child and I was the not-so-good, people usually gravitated towards him.

"Hey kiddo," Dean said cheerfully as I walked into our equally tiny kitchen which was jam-packed with people: my god-father, Dean; his wife, Monica; my own parents; and my brother. Five people. And considering that my kitchen is, no joke, about thirty square feet (not as big as it sounds, by the way), that's a lot of people.

"You excited to start school?" Monica asked me, and I nodded, forcing a fake smile. I was _not_ excited to start school. But Monica was nice and so was Dean and my parents were nervous enough about sending me off to school. I didn't want to add to that. "What house do you think she'll be in?" Monica asked my mother, who looked thoughtful for a second before Dad turned to Dean.

"A galleon she's in Ravenclaw." Dad offered. I scowled at him. I wanted to make this easier for him, not make him so comfortable he was willing to bet on his baby girl's house.

"Nuh-uh, Gryffindor. And two galleons," Dean scoffed, and I raised my eyebrows.

"Slytherin," Wes offered from the table. "And I'm up for two galleons." I shot him my angriest glare, before sighing heavily.

"At least no one said Hufflepuff," I mumbled, and my mother put a comforting hand on my back, glaring at my father, Dean and Wes.

"We all agree your smart, Princess," Dad said helpfully, and I smiled shyly.

"We're just not sure whether you're super hero smart, super _villain_ smart, or just pompous smart." Wesley added, and I scowled at him again, my eyes narrowing. "And my vote is still for some mix between villain and pompous."

"Yeah well, at least we know _you're_ none of those." I shot back, and Wes scowled back at me. "I'm surprised you even made Gryffindor."

"Definitely Slytherin." Wes confirmed, smirking and using the arrogant tone I hated so much. "Just as pompous and snobby as all the kids there."

"As long as you're not there it's my kind of house," I growled at him, and my mother's hand on my back slid up to my shoulder, squeezing me a reminder. I couldn't be stupid.

"Stop," She ordered, frowning, and I turned away from my brother and mother. How was I supposed to survive the stupid trip over to King's Cross if I couldn't be in a room with four other people in it? "Don't be rude to your brother, Sera," Mom commanded in her sternest voice. "And don't be rude to your sister, Wes." I rolled my eyes and pulled out of her grip, turning away and moving back into the living room and heading up the stairs to my bedroom. I couldn't stand my brother—he was an annoying prat. All those stories about big brothers and little sisters, having them be all supportive and protective: I had _no_ idea what they were going on about. And had they met Wes, they'd be just as confused.

"Serafina Finnigan, do not—" I tuned her out, sighing heavily as I closed the door to my bedroom behind me and leaning up against it. I knew I was being a brat, I _knew_ it, but I was too nervous about starting Hogwarts and too irritated with the concept of being in the same building as my brother for ten months of every year for the next four years (he was starting his fourth year) to be able to do anything about it. Also, I couldn't help but remember the huge going away party that Wes had gotten to throw before his first year, to say goodbye to all his muggle friends. I'd just had to come up with an excuse and pray they didn't research it too hard.

I stayed up there for a few minutes before I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. "Fi, it's time to go," Alec told me quietly, and I sighed heavily before grabbing my shoulder bag off my bed and opening the door. Alec offered me a sympathetic smile and I forced a smile back nonchalantly. Everything was going to be fine. Alec wouldn't let Wes kill me, or vice versa. All I had to do was make it onto the train.

---

Three hours later, I was half-way through my book, enjoying the beautiful day going on around the train as we rattled over the train tracks. I'd gotten a compartment all to myself, and I was simultaneously delighted and disappointed. I wanted to have friends to get me through the next seven years—but I also _really_ wanted to be left alone, just at the moment. I'd probably just make friends with the girls in my dorm room, though, so I didn't even bother on the train.

Until, of course, two boys (rudely) opened the doors to my compartment and slipped inside. I glanced up at them, surprised, as they slammed shut the doors, breathing heavily. One of them just leaned against the door, staring out the clouded glass into the train's hallway, obviously looking for someone, and the other sank into the seat closest to the door on the bench opposite me. He glanced at his cousin before his gaze flickered to me and widened. I opened my mouth for a moment to ask who they were and what they were doing here, but the one sitting shushed me frantically, before leaping across the seat to clap his hand over my mouth. I scowled and whacked the boy's arm with my book, causing a loud _smack_ sound and gaining myself the other boy's attention. He turned to stare at me and his friend, before he grinned ruefully at me. _Sorry_, he mouthed, and I saw a blur of blond hair pass the door. "Louis!" Some girl screeched. "I'm _going to kill you_! I cannot _believe_ you told Domi about Teddy and me!"

"Vicky, it's not that big a deal," Some boy told Vicky. That voice sounded familiar—Teddy Lupin, that quidditch captain I'd seen talking to Wes who'd introduced himself extremely politely. He'd even told me to try out—do to the fact that almost their entire quidditch team had graduated the previous year, he was allowing first years to try out. And Wes had rudely shot him down, making a joke at how miserable I was at quidditch. Thanks, big bro.

A brown blob popped up beside the blond one through the clouded glass. "First off, they're all going to find out anyway; second, it's not like we were being top secret; and third, Louis is your little brother. He's genetically programmed to annoy you." Teddy continued. "Just like how Al and James are always going at it," He tried to make it better with an example, but I sensed that he wasn't helping.

"James Sirius Potter! I'm telling your mother!" Vicky screeched, and the boy holding my mouth shut winced, seeming frightened. The blond boy across from us now, shook his head seriously. I glared at him from my captive position, my arms now crossed against my chest, my gaze venomous. The blond boy looked truly sorry for my apparent abduction, but the kid actually holding my mouth shut was obviously just worried about Vicky telling his mother.

"Don't tell Gin, Vic." Teddy was practically begging. "She'll throttle James. And I'm vaguely fond of the kid." The boy holding me hostage brightened a little and I stomped on his foot: he pressed his face into his shoulder, muffling an _oomph_ noise. The boy across from us sniggered and I glared fiercely at him, and he stopped immediately, looking serious.

"Yeah, well, that'll teach them to use _Extendable Ears_ on us!" Vicky, or Vic, or whatever her name was, was obviously pissed off. "George _swore_ to my mother that he wouldn't give them to the kids anymore! I'm going to kill him!"

"Oh, now, _that_'s just unnecessary." Teddy said flatly. "George is a natural-born prankster. Your mother is a natural born lecturer. He would tell your mother whatever it was that was necessary to get her off his back and then go back to whatever it was that he wanted to do." The blond hair from outside the window stormed away and I saw something like a hand run through what I assumed to be Teddy's brown hair before that followed the blond away from us. My captor gave it a moment before releasing me.

"What the bloody hell was that?" I demanded, smacking the boy's shoulder. I glared at him fiercely while he just scowled back at me, rubbing his shoulder.

"Sorry," Blond-boy apologized, sounding sincere, and I turned my cold glare to him.

"What _the bloody hell_ was that?" I repeated angrily. "What is _wrong_ with you? Who _does_ that?"

"We're _really sorry_," Blond-boy apologized again, still sounding sincere.

"Oh, shush, you'd do it again in a heart beat," Black-haired-boy said in irritation, and I punched his shoulder again. "Stop doing that!" He exploded at me.

"Next time don't hold me freaking hostage!" I shouted back, and the doors opened to reveal the prettiest girl I'd ever been immensely jealous of. She had blond hair like Louis's, and her eyes were a searing blue. She was tall—almost six feet, I'd guess—and she was almost as angry as I was. "What is _wrong_ with you guys?"

"Serafina?" Teddy asked in confusion, his eyes on me. "Serafina Finnigan? Wes's little sister?" Teddy was in shock, and Blond boy, the girl, and black-haired-boy all turned to stare at me, absorbing my name and relationship to Wes. Before, of course, the girl remembered the task at hand.

"Hah, got you!" The girl yelled triumphantly to blond boy.

"Please don't kill me—" Blond boy begged, grabbing me and pulling me to my feet to stand in front of him. I wheeled around and punched Blond boy's shoulder.

"You don't even know my name and you've now held me hostage and used me as a human shield!" I cried indignantly. "_Stop it_!"

"What the _fuck_ is going on in here?" Wes groaned from the doorway, and I turned around, my gaze flaming as I met my older brother's gaze. I had no idea how long he'd been standing there, watching us all completely flip out, but he was now looking thoroughly confused. "Oh, shit, which one of you pissed her off?" He asked, looking extremely irritated.

"James held her hostage—" Blond boy began, earning himself a scathing look from black-haired-boy.

"You're the one who used a girl as a human shield," Black-haired-boy interrupted. "That's just sad, Louis. She's your sister, not a raging bull." He grinned evilly. "Of course, they do look a bit alike..."

"James Potter!" Vicky screeched at black-haired boy, before Teddy put his arms around the girl's waist to hold her back, and Wes, recognizing my anger, reached out and grabbed my wrist, tugging me towards him. "You are _such an idiot_!"

"I'm really, really sorry," Blond boy repeated what seemed to be his mantra of the day, his panic seeming to fill the entire compartment. "I didn't realize you and Teddy were talking about... what you were talking about," his ears turned red, and I stopped struggling against my brother to frown at black-haired-boy who was, as far as I could tell, James Potter. _Sex_? I mouthed, and he nodded, confirming my suspicions, and I grinned, before remembering I was supposed to be beyond angry. Wes's grip on my arm was still strong though, so I just shot him my most searing glare. "I really, just thought it would...be funny?" Blond-boy tried.

"Are you retarded?" James demanded of his friend in a hushed tone, his gaze irritated. "You must be. How do I know more about apologizing to your sister than you do? Because you are bungling it up big time, cuz." I frowned at this nickname. Were James and Blond boy cousins?

"You're an idiot." Vicky had stopped struggling long enough to just glared scathingly at Blond boy, who I was fairly sure was Louis. "Legitimately, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to deal with having a brother this stupid."

"By not killing him." Louis offered helpfully. "By forgiving some mistakes so you would win sister of the year award." He tried frantically, and Victoire's gaze softened infitesimally before she pulled away from Teddy and stormed between him and Wes. That girl sure did a lot of storming out of places.

"You ready not to kill them yet?" Wes asked me, his tone mocking, and I turned to him, my eyes blazing. He raised his eyebrows, and I glanced at his wand. He could probably out-jinx me any day of the week. It so wasn't worth the effort to try to duel him. I nodded heavily, hanging my head in defeat. I so hated to lose.

"James, Louis, apologize for..." Teddy looked hopelessly confused. "Using her as a human shield?" Wes frowned at the boys, but said nothing, instead glancing at me, plainly pissed off he had to get off his ass to stop me from beating someone up.

"If I have to come over here again, I'm owling Mom." He said flatly, before slinking off, and I rolled my eyes. I was not scared of my mother, or my brother. Mom just had classic guilty-parent syndrome, a symptom of playing favorites with my easy-to-manage older brother instead of moody me. She wouldn't get angry. Dad would though—and I hoped that Wes wouldn't catch on to that.

"Whatever, Louis is the one who did that and he already apologized." James said in annoyance. "And she's now punched us both hard enough to bruise, so I'm not apologizing for the kidnapping thing." Teddy blinked at James before nodding and glancing at me.

"Don't beat them too badly, please. I'd hate to have to tell Ginny her kid was beaten to a pulp by Wes's little sister." He said flatly, and I glared at him.

"I have a name." I said grumpily.

"You do. And it's very, very silly, so I'm not going to say it at the risk of laughing and making my threat sound less threatening." Teddy acknowledged, and I glared at him icily. "Fine, _Serafina Finnigan,_" James snickered behind me, "please don't beat up my various relations-to-be at the risk of me having to tell Ginny Potter that her children were beaten up." Teddy said formally, and I rolled my eyes, a smile climbing onto my face.

"No promises." I informed him, and he sighed heavily, gently pushing me back inside the compartment and closing the doors. I turned to the boys, glaring, before I stalked past James and resumed my seat beside him, picking up my book. I read about a sentence before realizing that neither boy had any intention of leaving, as far as I could tell. "Can you guys leave now?" I asked pleadingly, setting my gaze on Louis, who seemed to be the far more civil of the two. He'd at least tried to apologize.

"Well, you see, we never quite got around to getting ourselves a compartment." Louis said slowly, looking at me just as beseechingly. "And now each one's filled with annoying people." I smirked.

"This one does seem to have it's fair share, yes," I agreed in a demure voice, and James elbowed me. I elbowed him back, harder.

"Please," Louis begged me, flat out. This was pathetic.

"Oh, don't be pathetic, Louis. This is just sad." James scolded, voicing my thoughts exactly, and I scowled at him for the millionth time in the last ten minutes. I ran my hand through my hair, considering my options. Maybe I could somehow make friends with only one of them—Louis, preferably. James just seemed like an arrogant dolt.

"Louis, you can stay," I decided in my best lofty voice. "James has to go." Louis grinned at me, recognizing that I was making fun of James, but James just shoved my shoulder. I couldn't tell if he didn't understand I was joking or if he just didn't find it funny.

"No!" He protested. "I'm not leaving just because some _girl_ says we have to." He retorted, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms across his chest. "If you don't want to be around us, you leave."

"I was here first!" I replied, glaring.

"Your face is going to get stuck that way." James informed me pleasantly. "Of course, that would be an improvement." I punched his shoulder again, earning me narrowed eyes but no more.

"This is and was my compartment. Give it back." I murmured angrily.

"No!" James said finally, and we both glared across at Louis, whose glare had flickered into a tired grimace. He sighed looking at us both in turn before he finally met my gaze, looking apologetic for the thousandth time since we'd met.

"He's not going to back down, you know." Louis warned me. "He's stubborner than anyone I've ever met."

"You've only just met me. I'm quite stubborn." I reassured him. And I grinned. "And nice use of the word _stubborner_." Louis grinned back, earning himself a kick in the shin from James.

"I try." Louis reassured me. "And quit it," He mumbled to James, red coloring creeping up his neck as his friend/cousin (I still hadn't figured out which) gaped, open-mouthed at him. "She's nice. I don't care if you're being a right prat. I was in the market for a new best friend anyway." He was joking now, but James still looked just as surprised—until a flicker of understanding, followed by a slow, ashamed head shake.

"Already your bestie?" I asked, putting my hand on my heart and grinning when Louis blushed hugely, turning scarlet now. "I'm honored, Louis. Well then, I guess you're my bestie right back." I put my hand up and gestured to James, pretending to be secretive. "We might have to ditch this guy, though."

"Oh, Christ, Louis." James groaned, covering his eyes with his hand. "This is humiliating." I frowned at this—I had _no _idea what he was talking about.

"What?" I asked after a moment, turning to James and frowning. He sighed, turning to me to glare.

"You're a little bit of a dolt, you realize." He said flatly, and I blinked for a second before I punched his shoulder. "_STOP DOING THAT!"_


	2. Welcome to the Black Parade

"They're going to put me in Slytherin," I announced to my boat of first years, the panic of being sorting finally settling in on us. We were just beginning to cross the lake, and I was _scared to death_. Dad had given me a little bit of a preview into what had gone on in the sorting process, but Alec had just ignored me, and Wes had just cracked up at the thought of me making it to Hogwarts. And after that, Dad had laughed at the very thought that a Finnigan would ever not make it to Hogwarts.

At least I hadn't broken that record. Yet.

"Nah," Louis said placidly. "You're Gryffindor, or at the very least Ravenclaw." He didn't seem the very least bothered, and I just wheeled around to glance at James.

"My father will kill me. Legitimately, there will be a death in the house, if I'm not Gryffindor." I said flatly, and James's eyebrows drew together as he gazed out at the dark water.

"Welcome to the club." He murmured. "Dad will probably have an actual aneurysm if I'm not in Gryffindor."

"They've cured that, now, you know, like a couple years—" Some kid sitting beside James said informatively, and I traded an amused look with Louis as James shoved the boy, grumbling.

"That's not what I meant, doofus, and you know that." James said in irritation.

"You are so violent," I scolded. "You have siblings you beat up? Because that seems sort of rude, if you ask me." I offered.

"I didn't ask," James began haughtily. "And I would never beat up Al or Lily." He growled. "Especially not Lily. I don't hit girls, period." I raised my eyebrows, but didn't push the subject. He sounded mighty sensitive about that. I just wanted to irritate him, not get punched in the face.

"So do you have any siblings _you_ like to beat up?" I asked Louis. "Other than that darling sister of yours, what was her name, Vicky?" James snorted at my description.

"Victoire should be thrilled that someone called her darling." James muttered. "Even if it was sarcastically, that is... not Victoire."

"Oh, be nice. Rag on your own siblings," Louis muttered in irritation. "I don't care if we're all cousins. I get dibs on Domi and Victoire."

"Alrighty, Mr. Defensive," I said in irritation. "You two are becoming increasingly less fun to be around as we get closer to the sorting ceremony and the topic of siblings, so I'm switching subjects and saving us _all_ from mortal _boredom_," that earned me a grin from a girl sitting next to Louis, both of whom were ahead of me. "What is everyone's name? I'm Serafina Finnigan."

"I'm James Potter," James said dutifully, and I heard the soft gasp of one of the girls on the boat, though it was too dark to tell quite who it was.

"Louis Weasley." Louis said softly.

"Collin Creevy." A tall blond boy mumbled self-consciously. I smiled at him. He probably hadn't met anyone nice on the train and felt weird about it—I would have been him had James and Louis not bothered to hold me captive.

"Divya Saab." A dark-haired girl said from beside me, and I smiled at her, earning a grin back.

"Rory Corner." A boy from the back of the boat said cheerfully. "And Serafina, you're Wes's little sister, right? Because my brother's fourth year, and he's friends with a Wes Finnigan." I rolled my eyes invisibly at the use of my full name.

"We're not supposed to be discussing siblings, Rory Corner," I scolded mockingly, before I turned to flash him a grin. "But yeah. And can everyone call me Sera? Or Fina? Or pretty much anything other than my name?" Divya grinned at me from beside me, and I grinned back before I felt the enchanted boat we were in shudder and stop.

"What's going on?" I asked, as the other boats moved up around us. I saw a few of the kids on other boats giving us confused looks, their faces illuminated in the darkness by the lanterns. "Why'd we stop?"

"I don't know," Louis said softly, and I turned to glance around the boat, feeling a little frightened. We were, after all, smack dab in the middle of a lake at night.

Suddenly, the boat shuddered again, and I glanced frantically back at James, who had braced himself against the side of the boat. He met my gaze, frowning. "This isn't part of the—" He began, but was cut off as the boat was pushed over, and there were several screams, from our boat and others, as Divya, Collin, Rory, James, Louis and I were dumped into the water.

"Holy _Merlin_," James mumbled as we all resurfaced, gasping for air as we fought against the freezing water in our extremely heavy robes. It was like someone had tied lead weights to us, and I wondered distantly if we might drown. "It is _cold_ in here."

"What tipped the boat over?" Rory asked frantically, coughing up some water, and I glanced around to check that everyone was there. Everyone was, of course, but Divya. Rory and James were bobbing behind us, Collin seemed to be doing just fine in front of me, Louis was struggling a little bit (but he was a little on the chubbier side, and his robes were enormously thick, so I wasn't that surprised), and Divya wasn't here anymore.

"Where'd Divya go?" I demanded through chattering teeth, earning myself a concerned look from some of the other kids.

"Get another boat!" Someone cried, and I heard a few kids freaking out in other groups. They were on the boats—what did _they_ have to freak out about, hmm? The only boat that had gone completely insane was ours.

"We're okay," Rory called out to the other boats, waving his arm so they'd see him properly. "Well, most of us." He glanced anxiously down at the water, before looking back up at the boat he'd been talking to. "We're missing a kid."

"Louis!" I said, alarmed by the lack of the only other girl on the boat. My friend treaded water to turn around, looking slightly panicked. "Louis where's Divya?" I demanded, and he glanced around, his eyes widening still larger.

"I don't know—I can barely swim, or else I'd look under water," He told me desperately, and I glanced at James, who nodded in confirmation. It wasn't that I hadn't believed Louis, it was just I wanted to make sure I knew the score: if it was Rory and Louis in the water, I should help Louis.

But right now, Divya was the one in most need of help. I glanced at James, and he shrugged in what I assumed to be agreement. "No," Louis said seriously as he saw the look we exchanged. "No, guys, just wait for a teacher, you'll drown," James fixed Louis with an irritated look. "James, seriously, don't do this," Louis sounded frantic, now.

"I'm looking under for her," James informed me, pointedly ignoring Louis, and I nodded in agreement, before taking a deep breath. I ducked under the water and forced my eyes open.

This stupid lake was so murky that I couldn't see a thing. I still gave it a few strokes down, my eyes scouring the thing, but I could barely see James, and he was only a few feet from me: would I have to get this close to see Divya?

Suddenly something grabbed my ankle, and I screamed under water as I was rapidly pulled down: James grabbed my hands, desperately trying to keep me near the surface. What the hell was going on? Was this stupid thing part of the sorting ceremony?

I heard people shouting above water, and saw a lantern held over the water somewhere above me, and I met James's gaze with my own frantic one as I lashed out desperately. I had to get away, this stupid thing—_whatever it was_—was going to drown me. I glanced down: there was a tentacle wrapped around my ankle, and it hurt like hell.

Holy _Shit_, that was one big tentacle. I couldn't see the end of it, so whomever this tentacle belonged to must have been giant.

"Help!" I screamed under water, praying that someone would somehow see us as we were pulled deeper and deeper into the lake. James leveled himself with me even as we got so deep that my ears began to burn with the pressure, kicking the tentacle that had grabbed me. Suddenly, I realized there was something else near us, someone else being pulled down.

Divya.

We must have been twenty or thirty feet under the surface now and my ears were burning so badly that tears would have surely been running down my face if I wasn't submerged in water. James met my gaze frantically and I realized, as whatever it was that was pulling us down moved us closer to Divya, that she was already unconscious.

I pointed frantically at the girl beside me, and James nodded, darting over to her while I bent down, slipping my fingers between my ankle and the tentacle, and I hesitated before digging my fingernails into it. It hurt the tentacle, I was sure, but my fingers were at this point so cold they were blue and it hurt to move them. The tentacle tightened, first, but I kicked my own ankle through the tentacle hard, and the it slackened before releasing me. I was almost dizzy with my relief, though at this point I was pretty sure that also might have been from lack of oxygen. I struggled over to Divya, trying to suppress my urge to breathe in water so I didn't drown. James and I sank our nails into the tentacle which let us go immediately, and I grabbed Divya as James grabbed my arm and kicked desperately to the surface. It'd been over a minute, I was pretty sure, and things were getting a little blurry.

We emerged to the surface, spluttering and coughing, and I was screaming as James and I struggled to hold our unconscious boat-mate up. "Help!" I cried desperately as I was dunked under the water while I tried to catch my breath, which made me breathe in water. _Please God, don't grab us again_, I prayed about the giant tentacles—I couldn't survive a second time, I was fairly sure of that.

"You okay?" James coughed out as the boats spotted us, and I realized we had a bit of an audience on the side. Kids were standing on the side of the lake, hundreds—all of them staring fearfully at us. I sucked in water and air alike, just trying to get _something_ into my lungs, and got to cough for my trouble. I nodded as I tried to breathe, holding up Divya with James. Our school robes effectively made us a thousand pounds heavier.

"What _was_ that thing?" I demanded frantically, glancing down as I kicked extra hard, just to give myself that extra boost up. James did the same as a boat began towards us, speeding up. Divya coughed, and I glanced at her frantically, my heart pounding in my chest. At least she was breathing. You couldn't cough without breathing, right?

"Fred and Vicky told me about a giant squid, but they said it was _friendly_," James said desperately, both of us searching the waters below us. "And you aren't supposed to get _thrown from the boat as you cross the great lake_," James protested as the boat got within a hundred or so meters of us. It skidded to a stop beside us, and three adults inside stared down at us before one of them moved, and grabbed Divya and dragged her into the boat first. A tall man reached in and pulled me up and into the boat and I coughed desperately as I was dropped in the boat, shivering; he reached in right after me and grabbed James, placing him on the row beside me.

"What happened?" He asked James and I as a woman maneuvered the boat back to shore and another woman bent over Divya.

"I have n-no idea," James stuttered out, too cold to talk without chattering teeth, I nodded in agreement as the man glanced at me. "The boat f-f-freaked out, and..."

"Divya wasn't there when we were and J-J-James and I went to look for her," I mumbled, continuing as I rubbed my hands together desperately. Oh, Jesus. I was so cold and I was in some severe pain. "So we went further, and s-s-something grabbed me."

"And I tried to p-pull her b-back up, but it was freaking g-giant and it had D-Divya," James coughed out, also shivering. The man draped blankets around our shoulders, but I was so cold that it didn't matter: I just made the blanket cold. "And then we just sc-scr-scratched it or something a-and we got back up." The man nodded, not listening anymore, before he glanced back at the woman working on Divya, who was forcing some kind of potion down the girl's throat.

"These guys are seriously hypothermic, Poppy. Complete with blue lips and fingers," the man said, and the woman glanced up at us.

"I'll fix it upstairs—come on!" Poppy ordered as the boat ran aground, and she lifted up Divya. I got up shakily, James beside me, and we stumbled onto shore, the searing pain in my ankle becoming more and more apparent as we stepped out of the boat and onto the dry ground, where the kids had parted their giant audience to stare at us.

"What do you think happened?" I heard someone whisper, and then realized the entire crowd was talking about us. I glanced at James, looking for his reaction, who shrugged at me, and I nodded once before dropping my head and watching the ground as we shiveringly made our way back up to the castle.

Louis, Collin and Rory were standing, looking cold but not quite hypothermic, with giant blankets around their shoulders. Louis gave one glance over us before he fell into step beside us, reaching over my shoulders to smack the back of James's head. "You're a retard," He whispered to his friend as we moved up the hill side.

"Shut up, we're all okay." James told him softly. "That's all that matters."

"What happened down there?" Rory asked me curiously, and I shrugged.

"To be entirely honest," I murmured, shuddering with cold again and earning myself concerned expressions from all the boys around me. "I have no freaking idea."

---

Half an hour later, James and I sat cross-legged on the cot beside Divya's, where she was currently sleeping. Our hands were in the same bowl of warm water where we were carefully warming up our hands: Madam Pomfrey, an ancient woman who was the head healer-type person here, had told us that we came too close to frost bite for her comfort. There was a curtain around the three of us: Louis, Collin and Rory had been dried off and warmed up with some hot chocolate and sent down to the great hall for the feast. James and I had been forced to change into the scratchiest pajamas I'd ever been in and told that we were not making the feast this year.

"What was that thing?" I asked him softly after we'd sat in silence for a few minutes.

"I have absolutely no idea," He murmured back. We'd asked the same question over and over—of each other, of the adults who'd picked us out of the water—but we still hadn't gotten an answer.

"She'll be okay, right?" I asked after a moment, looking over at Divya. James shrugged in my peripheral vision, looking at the girl as well. She'd clipped her face on something—a cut had been open on her right cheek—but Madame Pomfrey had fixed it right up, so now there was only a yellow-y bruise there. She might have been unconscious before she ever hit the water.

"I think so." James shrugged. "I mean, Pomfrey would have told us otherwise." I shrugged, sneaking a glance at James. I didn't understand what had happened—one minute we were snapping at each other and the next he was saving my life and Divya's from the crazy tentacle-monster. And now we were... friends? Was this how people made friends at Hogwarts? Because I'd liked Louis just fine, and I think we could both do without the panic of being attacked by _another_ giant monster. And I thought Divya would be a friend, if we didn't get almost killed again.

Suddenly I heard the door to the infirmary open, and I heard a clamor of people.

"You have visitors," Madame Pomfrey informed us irritatedly from the crack in the curtain, and I nodded, and she looked more disappointed. Did she want us to turn them away?

"Serafina Finnigan, what _the hell was that_?" Alec demanded as he slid past Madame Pomfrey, who shushed him half-heartedly. My godbrother didn't spare her a second glance as he hugged me tightly, and I hugged him back, laughing softly. "What the hell happened out there?"

"Jamesie!" Victoire sounded vaguely fond, now, as she came out from behind the curtain right after Alec. She swept her cousin into a hug. "Are you okay?" A few other kids followed Victoire in, and Wes crossed to stand behind Alec, his expression serious.

"The boat flipped out and then something grabbed Divya, and James and I glanced under water and the same something grabbed me and pulled me down," I offered all in one breath, and Wes's gaze hardened as he stood there in silence.

"You freaking scared me, can I just say that?" Alec demanded, glaring down at me. "You're parents tell Wes and me to take care of "their little princess" at school and we tell them _sure_, and within three seconds of setting foot within school bounds you almost get yourself killed! This has got to be some sort of freaking _record_. You're _so_ accident prone." I grinned at him.

"Trust me," I said tiredly. "I know." Silence fell, and Alec released me, stepping back and glancing at Wes, who was just scowling down at me.

"You okay?" He asked grudgingly, and I swallowed, nodding. He hesitated before hugging me tightly, and I hugged him back. "Don't _do _that," He ordered. "First off because I'm about forty years too young to have a heart attack, and second off, because our mother might just pull you out of school if she gets another call from Madame Pomfrey about how her kid's already nearly dead."

"Yeah, I know," I said uncomfortably, releasing him. Wes and I didn't do affection—we did irritation, but not affection.

"No, but seriously kid, don't do that again," Alec muttered, punching my shoulder, and I nodded tiredly.

"I know, I know," I said flatly.

"So what's up with sorting?" Alec asked me seriously. "How do you get sorted?" I blinked, shrugging. How did I get sorted? I glanced at James, frowning.

"James?" I asked, and he turned from people I had to assume were his relatives or something to look at me, smiling a little. "Sorting?" James's eyes widened, his smile slipping off his face. He shrugged, and I tilted my head to the side a little.

"I don't... know." James said softly.

"Madame Pomfrey said you guys were going to get sorted in the morning, in the headmistress's office." Victoire said, and she glanced at me, before smiling. "You're that girl that almost beat up Louis and James," She said pleasantly, and I grinned at her, nodding. Alec raised his eyebrows. "They kidnapped me and used me as a human shield," I whined.

"I said I was sorry!" Louis defended himself, and I looked up, surprised to see him there. He grinned at me. "You okay, Sera?"

"A little chilly but none the worse for wear," I said pleasantly. I patted the bed between James and me. "How was the feast? Is the ceiling of the Great Hall really—" James turned to Louis, expecting the answer to the question too.

"charmed to look like the night sky," Louis finished, and nodded, and I grinned excitedly.

"That's so cool—"

"I wish we could have eaten some of the food," James mumbled. "I'm _starving_,"

"Haha, the food was fantastic," Louis said unhelpfully, and I smacked his shoulder.

"I'm hungry too," I said easily. "She has to feed us, right? Even if she is holding us hostage." I glanced at my friends for confirmation, and James nodded.

"She better." He said flatly. "Or else we're breaking out of here."

"I heard that, Mr. Potter," Madame Pomfrey called out from somewhere behind the curtain, and I giggled while James rolled his eyes. Louis poked me and gestured subtly to my brother and god-brother, both of whom were looking immensely annoyed. With Louis and James, though, not with me: their angry gazes were settled on them, and I blinked in confusion. Had they even talked to them yet?

"Everything okay?" I asked, and Alec sighed, hugging me once more.

"Yeah, I'm just gonna get back to the feast," He said quietly. "Be careful, SerBear. Don't make me owl Seamus." I glared at him, not responding as he slipped between the curtains. Wes clapped me on the shoulder.

"I'm gonna go too, baby sis." He said. "Don't do this again. I'm not a big fan of the hospital wing." I smiled and he, too, left, until I was just left with James, Louis, and their ginormous family.

"That was weird, right?" I asked after a second, turning to James and Louis. "That wasn't just me."

"Nah," Louis said, agreeing. "That was definitely, very, very weird." He looked sort of concerned, but remained silent, before I noticed his brand-new red and gold tie, as well as the new emblem on his cloak that was no longer Hogwarts but Gryffindor.

"Wait, did you get into Gryffindor?" James asked after a second, grinning at his cousin. Louis blushed heavily and nodded, and I practically tackled him in a hug.

"Yay!" I cried. "I'm so happy for you!"

"Thanks," Louis said, patting my back awkwardly as I clambered off of him, and I noticed he was blushing even redder.

"Now all James and I have to do is get in too." I said flatly, and Louis snorted in laughter. I glanced at James for an explanation, by he shrugged. Louis caught our confused expressions. "You guys are Gryffindor. You jumped into a lake to save a girl you'd known for all of ten minutes. If that's not Gryffindor, I don't know what is." I grinned at James hopefully.

"Don't worry about it guys." Victoire said, grinning. I realized, suddenly, that she was the only member of James and Louis's family left: I guess everyone else had left when we were talking. "You're Gryffindor."

God, I hoped so.


	3. Count 'Em One, Two, Three

The next morning, James, Divya and I slipped into our newly-washed robes at eight AM and into the hallways of our brand-new school which we had, disappointingly, not yet had a chance to explore. The halls were alarmingly crowded, and even more alarmingly, people were _staring_ at us. Like, out-right staring and talking in whispers.

"This is weird." Divya murmured under her breath, and I nodded in agreement.

"_Extremely_," I whispered back. I leaned over to James (I was walking between the two) and bit my lip. "What do you think they're saying?"

"Stupid stuff, who cares," He muttered, shrugging me off, and I blinked, before pulling away.

"Well, I certainly do," Divya pointed out, glaring at James. I rolled my eyes and fell silent. "We're going to be here for the next seven years. It sort of matters if everyone in the school is talking about us."

"I don't care." I said bravely, and James snorted in skeptical laughter, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from me. Whatever kind of truce we'd worked out last night where we didn't kill each other because we'd almost been killed had faded, and we were right back to how we'd been on the train.

"Who do you think you're fooling?" He asked me, and I shoved his shoulder lightly. "My shoulder is going to be extremely abused by the time this term is over," He said sadly, shaking his head in mock-disappointment, and I grinned as we turned a corner.

"It wouldn't be if you'd be nicer." I informed him. "Or if you hadn't bothered to kidnap me in my own compartment on the train. Then we just would have skirted each other all term."

"And deprive me the privilege of my new best friend?" Louis asked from behind me, and I hip-bumped James over so Louis could scooch in between Divya and I.

"Don't do that again," James ordered in a low voice, and I laughed softly. I was in too good a mood at this point—I wasn't dead, I was about to be sorted, I had people who I could vaguely refer to as friends, and quidditch try outs weren't for another three days. Classes started today, but I could survive them.

"So are you coming up Patil's office, or..." when Louis shook his head, I nodded, understanding. The invitation to the office for a private sorting ceremony hadn't even been extended to my brother—not that Wes the ever-caring big brother—but it'd caused a sort of uprising among what I now understood to be James's large, large family. James's Mum was apparently the youngest of seven, and four of her siblings had families. And they had family friends who were as close as cousins—It was too complex to truly understand, but James had tried to explain as much as he could last night, when we couldn't fall asleep. Louis was his mother's oldest brother's son. Anyway, the various family members at Hogwarts weren't permitted to come to his sorting—apparently private sorting was extremely ceremonial.

"I hate this." Divya mumbled, blushing heavily when we passed some chatting kids that looked like sixth years who were pointing at us. "I almost drowned the very first day I was here, and now I'm probably going to be sorted into some house I hate."

"Or maybe you'll be sorted into some house you love and you'll start focusing on the whole living thing." I suggested positively. Divya shot me an irritated look, and I smiled pleasantly at her. She sighed.

"Sorry I'm being a brat, I just wanted this to go normally, you know?" She asked softly, and I nodded. Louis shifted awkwardly between us, shooting James a desperate look—boys weren't in to the whole emotions thing.

"Yeah." I murmured. "I am sort of disappointed. But, looking at the bright side," Divya groaned, and I rolled my eyes, continuing as we turned on to the hallway where the Headmistress's door was, "My god-awful name wasn't announced to the great hall." James sniggered and Divya sighed, shaking her head.

"You're too cheerful." Divya said, shaking her head.

"You're too grumpy." I retorted, and we stopped in front of the doorway. I turned to Louis. "You have to wait here for us." I informed him seriously, and he met my gaze for a moment before nodding. "No, I'm serious," I reinforced. "I'm not coming out of that place on cloud nine or in hell only to have to trek off to my classes all by my lonesome." I informed him.

"I know, I know, don't worry." He reassured me, giving me a little shove towards the doorway. "Now go get sorted so I don't have to explain to my aunt why she doesn't get to cart James off ten months a year for the next seven years." James punched Louis's shoulder lightly but moved to stand within the giant Eagle's wings with me. I swallowed hard as Divya stepped in to my left, and the Eagle gave a frightening shudder before slowly beginning it's twisting ascent.

"What house do you wanna be in?" I asked Divya, realizing, startled, that I knew that James and I were vying for Gryffindor, but not what house she wanted to be in.

"Ravenclaw or Slytherin," She mumbled, blushing a little bit as she caught my expression. "I know Slytherin's got a rep, but... I dunno, my mum went there." She mumbled.

"Alright." I said quietly. "I get it." I didn't, but I had too few friends at Hogwarts to go around ditching them because of their house choice. And I thought Divya was nice. I was worried, though: Slytherin and Gryffindor were enemy houses, and the kids were always getting in fights with each other.

"I don't." James volunteered, and I elbowed him in the ribs, rolling my eyes. Poor Divya looked sad now, and I sighed heavily. Stupid different-housed friends.

_"It was the squid, Parvati,"_ I heard a man's voice as the eagle twisted to reveal the closed door of the Headmistress's office, and I raised my eyebrows, holding Divya back a moment to listen. James shifted closer to the door. _"It's been bewitched—we can't allow the students to go by the lake anymore."_

_"If I ban the lake, Neville, you know as well as I do that'll cause unnecessary panic—" _This time it was a woman, and I frowned, swallowing. Were they talking what had happened last night?

_"There's nothing unnecessary about it!"_ The man burst out angrily. _"The squid almost killed three students last night—three first years. Does he actually have to succeed in killing someone before we take action?"_ I frowned: I had to agree with the man on this one. The squid couldn't just go around killing people.

_"Neville, don't be ridiculous." _The woman retorted. _"The spell on the thing was immediately dropped when you, Professor Hurwitz and Madame Pomfrey got the children to shore. They're not trying to kill _anyone_, they're trying to kill one of them."_ My heart pounded in my throat as I realized what the woman was saying. Someone was trying to kill us—either James, Divya, or me. Oh my God.

Divya's eyes were wide with terror at this point, and I crossed my arms stiffly across my chest, trying to ward off the headache I knew was coming on. James just stood perfectly still, his face frozen in a stony expression.

_"What if someone's just trying to scare Hogwarts, Parvati? And no one wants to kill those kids—the best target would be James and no one grabbed him."_ The man pointed out, and my eyes slid to James, who now looked thoroughly embarrassed. Why would the best target have been James? I mean, his parents were both pretty high-profile people, but I was just what would anyone want with the child of high-profile people? Why didn't they just go straight to the high-profile people. "_The kids swear it—the squid grabbed Divya Saab, pulled her down, and Serafina Finnigan and James Potter went after her. The squid grabbed Serafina—not James—and pulled her down too, and they managed to get away and grab Divya."_ Divya looked paralyzed with fear, now, and I sighed. Poor kid.

_"Maybe someone was after Serafina or Divya then, Neville."_ Parvati pointed out, and Divya, not wanting to hear anymore, opened the door with a fake smile. Four adults were standing—a fifth was sitting at her desk, her frustration in the argument turning expressionless as she faced us. Parvati Patil was the headmistress of Hogwarts and one of the scariest women to grace this planet: she was always dressed impeccably, her hair perfect, her gaze icy. And she scared me. To death.

"Miss Saab, Miss Finnigan, Mr. Potter." She said, nodding to acknowledge us, and I swallowed, hard. "These are the heads of the respective houses: Neville Longbottom, Gryffindor;" She gestured to the man who'd lifted us from the water last night, "Daniela Picoult, Hufflepuff;" An extremely tall woman with blond hair and pale blue eyes grinned at us, "Gilbert Donnelly, Slytherin;" A man who was of average height and looked grumpy, "And Luna Lovegood, Ravenclaw." Professor Lovegood waved breezily at us, tilting her head a little to smile, and I smiled breezily back, until...

"Are those radishes?" James murmured in my ear, and it took an immense amount of strength to keep me from bursting into laughter.

"I hope you're all feeling better," Professor Longbottom said quietly from his perch leaning against the desk.

"I am, thank you," Divya said politely, and I just swallowed and nodded. James nudged me—you're supposed to _speak_ to teachers, not just nod at them, apparently it's this big respect thing. My mother had practically beaten it into me.

"I mean, yes, thanks," I said awkwardly. I was still on the verge of freaking out from what they'd concluded—that someone was after Divya or me. Why the hell would anyone be after me?

"Me too," James added after me.

"Well that's good. If you're interested, I've heard the snorcack has some _fascinating_ healing properties..." Lovegood said in what I supposed was her helpful voice. "If you powder than boil the horn—I've just heard of some incredible uses," I nodded, and I saw the headmistress's nostrils flare in annoyance, but didn't say anything. She obviously didn't dare take Professor Lovegood seriously.

"Alright," Headmistress Patil said seriously. "Let's be on with it. Miss Finnigan, seeing as you are first alphabetically, would you be so kind as to sit and put on the sorting hat." The woman continued.

Headmistress Patil had dark hair and dark skin—I suspected she was Indian, but I didn't know for sure. Her hair was carefully cut into very stylish layers, and her dark eyes were framed by what I assumed had involved pounds of mascara, but it was put on quite well, because she didn't look trashy at all. She had two bracelets on—one, a gold cuff, and the other, a charm bracelet—that I'd heard from Alec apparently had magical powers, but Alec had a lot of weird stories like that, so I wasn't quite sure I believed him.

I stumbled to the chair and sat down nervously, swallowing, before I put the hat on.

_Well, hello! My first Finnigan in a while—your brother was rather hilarious to sort, though he had none of the pomp and circumstance this does. He was so nervous._ A cruel-sounding voice cracked my thoughts and I jumped a little bit, but kept the hat on. _Of course, you don't much _like _your brother, now do you? And you're quite good at making enemies..._

_I don't have any enemies!_ I protested internally, realizing where this was going. The sorting hat forced a picture of James up in my mind and I shifted uncomfortably. _He's not..._ I protested, more weakly, and the sorting hat cackled in my mind. This was disconcerting—having another voice in your mind, human as yours.

_But you did save that girl last night... _A flash of memory of last night slammed through my mind, like reliving something in fast forward, and I remained stock still. _And you questioned it, too. My, my, this is a difficult choice. You'd do well anywhere but Hufflepuff, I'm fairly sure._

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat said, for real this time, and I tore the hat off my head, my eyes wide and frightened as I dropped it on the chair and scrambled away from it. James caught me as I stumbled, looking concerned, and I tried to catch my breath shakily. It'd been disconcerting to relive last night in a second, the slamming force of suffocation tight against my lungs in a millisecond and gone the next.

"You okay?" He asked me, his brows furrowed, and I caught my breath, nodding with a forced smile.

"Welcome to Gryffindor, Miss Finnigan," Professor Longbottom said quietly from his spot leaning against the desk.

"Mr. Potter," Headmistress Patil said seriously, gesturing to the hat, and James released me, frowning. Divya was staring at me anxiously, now, and I slid closer to her, trying to keep my hand from shaking.

"Could you hear the hat?" I asked Divya, and she shook her head shortly, her eyes meeting mine in concern.

"Why d'you look so scared?" She asked me softly, and I swallowed, shaking my head.

"Nothing." I mumbled. Divya held my gaze for a moment before she smiled hopefully.

"Good job, by the way. You wanted Gryffindor, right?" She asked me, and I nodded, forcing a grin onto my face. She was right: I'd gotten the house I wanted, despite the discomfort in the journey.

James shifted in the chair, and I watched him worriedly. A few nerve-wracking seconds later, the hat spoke. "Gryffindor!" I grinned, for real this time, as James took off his hat, and the second he was standing, I rushed forward and hugged him, hard. He hugged me back, chuckling. Professor Lovegood gently shuffled us to the side, and we watched nervously as Divya put on the hat.

"Congratulations!" I mumbled to him, and he grinned shakily. He waited a second, glancing at Divya, before he turned to me.

"You couldn't hear what it said, right?" James asked me softly, and I shook my head. He tapped my shoulder and met my gaze with his own, confused one, and my eyebrows rose. "Really?" I nodded more slowly this time, concerned.

"Nah. I asked Divya the same thing and she couldn't hear mine, either." I murmured. He looked so relieved I decided not to press him on it. James would come to me if he wanted to talk.

"Slytherin!" The hat screeched, and I tried not to show my disappointment as I smiled graciously at the girl. She earned a small, approving smile from Professor Donnelly as she pulled off the hat and moved to stand beside us: I felt a light tug at my chest and realized a tie had popped into existence around my neck, and the emblem on my chest had turned from Hogwarts to Gryffindor.

"Professors Longbottom, Gilbert, would you care to show your respective students to their common rooms?" Headmistress Patil said quietly. I considered mentioning that Louis would be fine with showing us our room before realizing I was simply too much of a chicken to contradict the woman in front of me.

"Of course: I would recommend that perhaps the students should go down first, than Professor Gilbert and me." Professor Longbottom offered. I swallowed: his tone was so cold that it made me uncomfortable, and Headmistress Patil fixed him with an icy glare. "There doesn't seem to be enough room in the transport for five of us."

"Fine, fine." Headmistress Patil was already sounding irritated as she sank down on her desk and began to flip through a pile of papers, lifting a quill. Divya stepped first into the eagle's arms, and James and I, and James shut the door behind us. James waited until we'd begun our slow descension before turning to me.

"They think someone's trying to kill you!" He whispered. So he was listening—his lack of reaction to the words the first time we'd heard them had scared me a little bit. It was, at least, a semi-normal reaction, even if it was a little delayed.

"I know, but... I mean, I really don't think they've got that right," I whispered back, glancing at Divya for agreement. "I'm sure they don't. There is _absolutely_ no reason for anyone to bother hurting me."

"Me either," Divya mumbled, looking alarmed at how serious James was about this. The last time I'd heard him talk this much had been on the train when we were discussing how I should stop punching his shoulder as punishment for my kidnapping.

"And I can't have been the reason because the giant squid didn't even bother with me." James finished, looking frustrated. The eagle twisted back into the archway, and Louis was standing there, looking awkward. He checked the ties, before a giant grin took over his face, and I ran forward and slammed into him, hugging him hard and forcing him back a few steps.

"I'm in Gryffindor!" I said happily over his shoulder, and he laughed a little. I heard James walk up behind me. I tried to keep the giant smile on my face, but it faded a little bit. James was going to be all grumpy now.

"Way to be bipolar there, Sera," James commented, and I rolled my eyes, pulling away.

"What's he mean?" Louis asked me, concerned, and I bit my lip, glancing around me. "Sera, come on," He said, more softly, and I remained silent. James sighed.

"They—the professors—think someone is after Divya or Sera." James said quietly, and I blushed a little in embarrassment as Louis went pale, his frantic gaze flicking to me. I nodded in agreement, before I swallowed hard against the lump building in my throat—I really didn't want to talk about my potential impending murder.

"After meaning?" He questioned, looking frightened.

"Trying to kill." I translated softly, and Louis stared at me, shocked.

"That's... insane." He said flatly, after a moment. I looked away, my arms crossed across my chest. "Who... why would anyone kill you?" He was asking me, and I didn't have an answer for him, so instead I tried to back track.

"Want to." I corrected quietly, glancing at him. "They want to kill me, and they didn't succeed, and they won't. It doesn't matter." Louis looked thoroughly alarmed still, having gained little comfort from my words. "And it might not be me, it might be Divya, and of course—it might be neither of us. We just might have been convenient." I offered again. "They might have simply chosen the boat farthest on the edge of the group and then chosen some random girl and then when James and I went after her chosen me because I'm smaller—who knows."

"How convenient, I think I'll kill three children today." James mocked in a scary tone of voice, and I smacked his shoulder lightly, but smiled at his attempt to lighten the mood.

"This is _serious_, James. This wasn't just an accident, someone tried to _kill_ _her_." Louis protested, still looking frightened. I wasn't sure why I was taking this so well, but I definitely was. I mean, I was scared, but I wasn't having the reaction Louis was, and I was the one potentially being hunted.

"Take a deep breath, Louis," James said, chuckling, but apparently understanding his cousin's panic, because he went on to reassure him. "Sera's fine." James gestured to me. "And aside from that," James grinned as he continued, and I groaned. Louis seemed like the kind of kid who would frown upon eavesdropping on teachers. "We aren't supposed to know what's going on because we sort of eavesdropped."

"If you guys get in trouble before we ever even hit classes," Louis threatened emptily, and I grinned at him just as the eagle twisted back into place at the arch with our head of house and Slytherin's inside.

"Ah, Mr. Weasley, are you here to volunteer to show your cousin and friend around?" Professor Longbottom asked easily, and I glanced at Louis. He raised his eyebrows, glancing at James for a moment, before he looked back at our head of house.

"I'd be happy to." Louis said after a moment. Our professor nodded with a small smile, before turning and shaking Professor Donnelly's hand.

"See you lot in Herbology, then," He said to us cheerfully, Professor Donnelly looked around a moment.

"Is Miss Saab no longer here?" He asked us, confused, and I glanced around. I'd seen Divya get off the eagle platform, but after that, not so much. I frowned—that was weird.

"I guess not," I offered uncertainly, glancing around and then at James, who shrugged, shaking his head a little bit. Professor Donnelly sighed heavily and walked away, looking hassled, and I turned to Louis, before looping my arm through his. "Wanna show us the great hall? We still haven't seen it." I suggested with a bright smile.

"And if I don't get food soon I'm going to die." James continued, and Louis rolled his eyes at the exaggeration, still smiling.

"Perhaps we should wait a while longer then," Louis muttered to me, as if James couldn't hear us, and I laughed quietly while James scowled at his cousin.

"Ha ha, so funny," He said drily, and Louis grinned at him, before dragging me along.

"Come on then. I haven't gotten breakfast yet either."


	4. Good Girl, Bad Boy

"Now, does anyone know the meaning of the term _Electricity,"_ Professor Picoult asked the class seriously a week later, and I sighed heavily as no one raised their hand. My dad's father was a muggle, my mom's parents were both muggles, and thus my grandparents lived as muggles: my paternal grandmother hadn't used magic in years, as far as I could tell, despite the fact that she was a witch. This also meant that dad had tons of muggle cousins, and I second cousins, and I was extremely familiar with all of the things we were learning in Muggle Studies. But I really didn't want to be that kid who knew every answer—I'd already drawn enough attention to myself by going after Divya and becoming friends with James and Louis, both of which were apparently big deals. Unfortunately, Picoult was, by far, my favorite teacher, and I wanted her to keep on liking me, which involved me continuing to be good at her subject.

"You did the reading on this last night, guys," She reminded us, and I sighed heavily. The textbook had done a _miserable_ job of explaining electricity, it wasn't any wonder that no one was raising their hands. I raised my hand tiredly. "Ah, Miss Finnigan. Enlighten us."

"It's a type of energy that Muggles use to do almost everything," I offered. "It runs through little metal string-type-things that are called wires that are usually kept in walls and it can be stored in something called a battery." Professor Picoult grinned approvingly at me.

"Perfect, Miss Finnigan, five points to Gryffindor." She said cheerfully.

"Suck-up Mudblood," I heard someone mutter to my left, and I blushed, swallowing hard. I usually would have retaliated, but I was in class, and it was useless. I wasn't even technically a mudblood—the term was meant to insult someone with two muggle parents, but I was the daughter of a witch and a wizard. Dad had one muggle parent and one magical parent—and my mom was the daughter of two muggles. But there was no explaining that to the stupid Slytherin first-years.

Gryffindor and Slytherin had their classes together, probably because it was someone's idea of a cruel joke—but it resulted in me earning a lot of hateful looks from Slytherins. And, according to Louis's apology-explanation after he had seen me tripped in the hallway, it was mostly because they were all raised hating Harry, Ron and Hermione. Harry, being James's dad, and Ron and Hermione, being James and Louis's uncle. So James got hated, so friends of James got hated—I was confused as to why the grudge holding passed through generations and the friends, but Louis had seemed pretty sure.

Anyway, I had almost all my classes with Louis, James, or both—but Muggle Studies left me alone, and that was usually when it was the most obnoxious. James could be scary enough that no one bothered with me when I was with him, and Louis was always with us, so I pretty much hadn't told them about it, or at least the extent of it.

"Alright," Picoult said cheerfully as the magical bell on her desk lifted and shook lightly. "Come on up and hand in those papers on the differences between airplanes and helicopters. Come on now," She said as the class groaned, and I stuffed my notebook in my bag and stood up, taking out my paper. I took one step—and suddenly I was down, having tripped on... nothing. Stupid magic made it easy for these kids to trip me without making it look like it. "Oh, Miss Finnigan—" Professor Picoult began, and I jumped up and brushed myself off.

"I'm fine," I said cheerfully, pretending to fall sideways a little bit and knocking into the desk of the boy sitting there. It had been he who tripped me—I'd seen him shove his wand back into his robes, and he was a Slytherin who'd done the same thing before—and slammed my hand down on his desk, catching his quill. Magic squirted out of it onto his robes and face, and I backed up, pretending to look horrified. "I'm so _sorry,_" I said faux-frantically. "I'm so clumsy..."

"Bloody hell!" The boy exploded, wiping off his face. "You've ruined my robes—how _dare_ you, you—" His friend behind him kicked his chair, shutting him up effectively and saving him from a week's worth of detention.

"Now, now," Professor Picoult scolded. "I'm sure Miss Finnigan didn't _mean_ to do that, Mr. Gallagher," I shook my head, the epitome of innocence, and earned myself a pinch on the back of the leg. I winced but didn't say anything. I was no tattletale.

"I'm so sorry," I gasped, turning to Brian Gallagher. "I didn't mean to, I swear." Gallagher met my gaze with his own icy one, and I just continued to stare, doe-eyed, at the boy. He glared at me angrily but said nothing.

"Alright, Miss Finnigan, hand in your paper and be on your way," Picoult suggested after a moment, her eyes on us, and I turned away from Brian with a final smirk before going up, solemn-faced, to Professor Picoult. "Mr. Gallagher, do you want me to fix that for you?" She asked as I turned to the door.

"I'm fine, thanks Professor—I know the clean-up spell rather well." Brian offered, standing and placing his own paper on the desk and following me out, barely a half-step behind me. Once we'd emerged from the classroom, he shoved me against the wall, glaring at me. "Bloody hell, Finnigan, you think you can just do that?" He demanded, and I smirked, ignoring the pain in my back from impact.

"I think I just did," I informed him, smirking.

"These are some of my best robes!" He said angrily. "Mudblood, you're gonna get what's coming to you one of these days—" I shoved him backwards.

"Don't call me that!" I ordered, glaring. "And like you could threaten me! You've got nothing to do but pinch me," I reminded him, and he leapt at me, catching my cheek in a punch. We both had our wands on us and probably could have managed a duel of sorts, but it was so much a bigger deal when one student magically attacked another than when they got in a muggle fight, so it was a silent agreement among the students that unless the situation really did call for it, you could only physically fight people.

I shoved Brian away from me, but he slammed me against the wall, my back protesting. I was a good few inches shorter than him, and I'd guess thirty pounds lighter: the fact that I wasn't winning wasn't exactly surprising.

"You just some obnoxious little Mudblood that can't make any friends but Potter and Weasley. Think I don't know that the entire girls dorm _hates_ you?" My stomach turned over: he was right. Well, sort of. They didn't hate me, or even really dislike me, but most of them were too scared of the Slytherins to be too friendly, and they spent _a lot_ of time talking about how cute Louis and James were, which, frankly, made me a little bit uncomfortable. I wasn't yet obsessing about guys, or anywhere near that, and I knew the girls would have talked about other things with me, but I spent most of my time outside class with Louis and James, and my roommates got _so_ weird around them.

I didn't bother responding to that, knowing I'd waited too long for any retort I said to have it's intended effect, and instead brought my knee up sharply, hitting him between the legs. He turned scarlet, his eyes slamming closed in pain as he leaned against the wall he'd cornered me against, and I glared at him.

"Leave me alone, won't you?" I said angrily, pulling away, and I lifted my school bag up higher on my shoulder, walking away. I waited until I'd turned the corner to begin searching for a restroom—my cheek was throbbing badly.

But before I could even manage to hit a restroom, I ran into Louis and James.

They had every class together, and I'd really yet to see them separated, to be fair, so it wasn't a surprise to see them together. No, the surprise was on them: James took one look at my face and almost had an aneurysm.

"What the—" He practically shouted from the other end of the hallway, earning he and myself a few peculiar looks before Louis elbowed him. I smiled a little at the boys, earning a shooting pain behind my cheek, and I saw a few kids looking at me in concern: everyone knew my name by now. I was the only girl first year to sign up for the quidditch try-outs (which had been moved to this Saturday from the nearly persistent rain this week), I'd gotten a lot of attention with that thing the first night, and most of the Slytherin first-years had it out for me.

James and Louis hurried up to me, both of them scowling heavily, but Louis looked more concerned while James was edging more towards pissed off.

"Sera, what happened?" James demanded angrily, putting his hand on the top of my head and angling my face to look at my cheek.

"I took care of it, James," I said flatly, not even bothering with any of the excuses. James looked ready to kill, though, and I was fairly sure my words (or anyone else's) wouldn't do much to calm him down.

"You okay?" Louis asked me quietly. I nodded.

"Fine," I reassured him. "Really!" I protested, when his expression was practically radiating disbelief.

"Who _punched_ you?" James demanded, and I rolled my eyes: he was _freaking_ out. If he found out it was Brian Gallagher, I was fairly sure James simply would have rounded the corner and tackled the boy. And he would get in trouble, Gallagher would look like (and play the) victim, and I'd feel guilty. I wasn't willing to do that.

"I'm not telling you." I said flatly. Louis looked frustrated, and as James opened his mouth to start in on me, Louis stomped on his foot.

"James, don't be an idiot. What are you gonna do, go attack whoever?" Louis said, his voice fast and quiet. "You can't do that—you'll get in trouble, it'll look like Sera's a tattletale, and whoever punched her will make it look like you're some big bully."

"The teachers won't find out," James growled darkly.

"Yeah, they will." Louis said truthfully. "They'll owl Ginny and Harry, you'll get a howler, and you'll look like a bully." James shot a deep scowl at Louis, but seemed to be less on the verge of simply tearing around, looking for anyone to attack. Louis waited a second before looking at me. "Let's go to the hospital wing."

"No." I said forcefully, grabbing Louis's sleeve desperately. "No, Madame Pomfrey scares me and she won't take this for a second—she'll feed me truth serum or something, and I'll just spill my guts. No." I reinforced, and Louis raised his eyebrows.

"You're insane," James said flatly. "You've got a cut, it's already bruising—"

"It's cut?" I asked, confused, before I reached up to touch my cheek. My fingers came away bloody, and I raised my eyebrows. "Oh, hell." I mumbled, reaching in my school bag for a napkin. "No wonder you flipped out," I mumbled, and James's glare intensified.

"There's a bathroom—go get a paper towel and then we can go to Teddy." James looked slightly comforted by this, and Louis gently pushed me to the door of the restroom I'd missed the entrance to. I slipped inside and grabbed a few paper towels, ignoring the looks I got from a few girls, before I felt a hand on my arm.

"Serafina?" Victoire asked me softly, and I turned, jumpily, to Louis's sister. She gasped softly when she saw my cheek, and I held my breath. We stared at one another for a moment before I finally spoke, frantically.

"Please don't tell the teachers," I pled under my breath.

"I... sweetheart, you need to get this fixed up," Victoire told me gently.

"No, please, I'll have to tell the teacher who did it and James'll hear and then he'll kill him." I explained, and Victoire raised her perfect eyebrows: I hadn't yet gotten over my jealousy of her looks, but since Louis had explained that it was because they were part veela, it had gotten better. "Please, I'm begging you."

"That doesn't sound like my sullen cousin." Victoire said quietly. "Look, we'll... we'll take you to Teddy. Bring the paper-towels, come on." She told me, putting her arm around my shoulders and leading me through the bathroom. "You are taking some shit for being my brother's best friend, aren't you?" She asked me softly as we walked up to the boys, and I looked up at her incredulously before we reached the boys.

"It's not their faults." I defended softly. "And they're my friends." I fell silent as we stepped up to James and Louis.

"Look who I found." Victoire said lightly, her gaze sliding from James to Louis, both of whom shot me irritated looks before James simply couldn't stay silent a moment longer.

"She won't tell me who hit her!" James exploded angrily.

"I told you—I took care of it, it's not an issue!" I retorted. "I'm not some defenseless kid, James. I can take care of myself."

"They're only doing this because we're friends," Louis mumbled softly, looking like a kicked puppy. "This isn't fair to you." Victoire watched her brother for a moment, her expression soft. "Maybe..." My eyes widened as I realized what he was about to suggest—that we not be friends. But before I could cut him off, Victoire did.

"Louis, you're wallowing in self-pity, and let me tell you, not that attractive." Victoire said frankly. "And James, your yelling is doing absolutely nothing. She's obviously not telling you. Let's go see Teddy." She released me and stalked off, gesturing for us to follow her, and Louis shot me a dirty look.

"You got my sister?" He demanded lowly.

"She was in there and she saw me—what was I _supposed_ to say?" I asked under my breath. "Besides, she's right. You are wallowing in self-pity and I'm not telling James."

"You have to tell me who punched you," James said under his breath for what felt like the millionth time, and I shoved him lightly, though not hard enough to force him out of step with us. The boys had sandwiched me between them, and I had a hunch that it was sort of protective—that the world would have to go through them to get to me. And while I thought it was sweet, I also thought it was a tiny bit unnecessary.

"No." I whispered back. "You'll kill the person."

"Has he done anything else?" James hissed to me, and I glanced at him nervously. How'd he know it was a he? "I'm assuming it was a boy because girls slap people and boys punch." He reasoned, and I glared at him. "Except for you. You punch."

"That's sexist. And just called me a few names, James, it's not a big deal." I tried to convince him, and his expression darkened.

"Yes, it is, Sera." He said seriously, and we moved into the stairwells, following Victoire up one set of stairs. "They can't just do that—they can't get away with it!"

"James!" I cried. "Stop it! I'm not telling you—so get the bloody hell over it, won't you?" I demanded.

"She might have you beat in stubbornness, James." Louis said with a grin.

"Shut it, you git." James lashed out, and I frowned at him, despite the pain in my cheek, and I pulled the napkin away from my face to fold it in half and press it again—my blood was seeping through the napkin. Louis winced and looked away. "Serafina Finnigan, you have to tell me, I can't _not know_ who did this." James said angrily, and I glared at him.

"You sound like my dad." I informed him as we followed Victoire through the portrait hole and across the common room.

"Teddy!" Victoire said carefully, sauntering up to the couch. She leaned over the shoulder of the brunette boy sitting there. "Teddy, can you fix up James and Louis's friend? She doesn't want to go to Madame Pomfrey." Victoire asked, and the boy I recognized from the train twisted around to look at me.

"Serafina?" He asked me, startled, and I nodded.

"Yeah. But please, it's Sera," I corrected, and he nodded once, blinking as he glanced at my cheek. He looked up at Victoire and pulled her down a little farther to whisper something in her ear, and I shifted uncomfortably. Victoire whispered something response, and then Teddy rose to his feet.

"Sera, come on up to my dorm with me and I'll see if I can fix that. James, Louis, stay here with Vicky, won't you?" Teddy said authoritatively, and I shot a nervous look at James, who glanced over my head at Teddy, stepping forward protectively.

"Why can't we come with you?" He asked.

"Because I'm not supposed to have one first year in my dorm, much less three." Teddy retorted, a strange expression on his face. He hesitated before continuing. "Sera will be fine, Jamesie." James scowled at the nickname, but relaxed a little bit at his words, and I glanced at Louis who smiled a little at me, reassurance radiating from him. I still wasn't sure how comfortable I was with a seventh-year trying to heal my face, though.

"Ted's like our older brother, Ser." Louis told me softly. "He won't mess up." I nodded after a second, considering his words. Then I stepped out from behind James and slinging my bag over my shoulder as I moved closer to Teddy. I spared a glance back at James who was still glowering, but this time, Victoire stood behind him, her arm around his shoulders.

"So James and Louis are a bit protective." Teddy said, smiling, and I ducked my head, embarrassed. It was sweet that they wanted to protect me—but I could certainly take care of myself. Teddy grinned at my embarrassment, starting a pink flush to creep up my neck to my cheeks. "Never seen that in Jamesie before. Didn't know he had actual friends outside Louis." Teddy's voice was strange as he led me up the stairs.

"Alright." I said uncertainly. Why was he telling me this? I didn't want a psychiatric analysis of my friend—I just wanted someone to fix my cheek without going to the teachers or forcing me to go back to the scary and ancient Madame Pomfrey.

"So did the kid who did this do this because you're friends with him?" Teddy asked after a moment, his voice quiet, and I kept my face expressionless. "You wouldn't be the first, Sera. I had the same problem, as did Vicky. I'm pretty sure you're the first to tough it out."

"I dunno why they did it." I said carefully, not sure how much of this would get back to James. "Maybe it was because of that. I got him back, anyway, so who cares?" I was trying to slip him away from the conversation, and I thought of something new to bring up. "So you're quidditch captain?"

"And you're the only first year girl in the school to sign up for try-outs." Teddy acknowledged, easily agreeing with my route. "You sure you're good enough for the team?"

"Yeah." I said flatly. "I'm a Chaser. You guys need a Chaser. I'm fine." Teddy chuckled as we stepped onto a landing and he opened the door, slipping inside.

"I'm not sure how much I can do—and I'm not sure Pomfrey would have much to do either, it's hard to heal soft tissue. I can close up bits of it though, and I've got some gauze." Teddy explained after a moment, sounding very professional. "Come on, I do this all the time back home. My aunt Hermione can't do a healing spell to save her life and my uncle George's kids get into more trouble than anyone, I swear it." He'd obviously sense my reluctance and was chattering mindlessly to get me less nervous, so I followed him in.

Ten minutes later I was patched up, butterfly bandaids having closed the part of the cut that hadn't closed with Teddy's spell. I stumbled back downstairs, smiling bigger now because it didn't hurt anymore, and James and Louis looked up anxiously as they heard my footsteps.

"Your face is fixed!" James said cheerfully, grinning hugely at me. I nodded, smiling. His smile faded. "Now spill."

"Hell no. Come on, I wanna grab lunch before next class," I said pleasantly, grabbing Louis's hand and dragging him after me. Victoire laughed softly, and I turned to grin at her. "Thanks!" I called after me as I climbed through the portrait hole and Victoire nodded, smiling, as Teddy came up behind her. Louis turned to them to make a gagging noise before I got him out the portrait hole and into the hallway, and James followed us, looking pleased.

"Does your cheek hurt?" Louis asked me anxiously, and I shook my head.

"Don't be such a girl, Louis," James complained, and Louis shoved him.

"Yeah, you're right, _I'm_ the one whose acting like a girl." Louis retorted sarcastically. "You were the one sitting there staring up the stairs after—" Louis got his stomach elbowed, and he coughed, while I rolled my eyes. "Merlin," Louis mumbled.

And, leave it to Gallagher to come limping down the hallway at that precise moment.

The Slytherin met my gaze, and with a defiant head raise, practically signed his own death warrant. "You filthy little mudblood." He murmured as he brushed past us, his shoulder hitting mine, and it took less than a second for James to go from content to irate. Of course, it only took a second for his eyes to flick to Brian Gallagher's knuckles that were stained with my blood, and the way he was limping, before something clicked on James's face.

James slammed into Gallagher, fists already flying. "How _dare_ you call her that!" James shouted in the boy's face, and Gallagher punched him back, flipping over so he was on top of James.

"Holy shit, James." Louis cursed under his breath, forcing forward into the fight and grabbing his cousin, hauling him off him—Brian's friend who'd kicked the back of his chair in class ran from behind us to drag Gallagher backwards.

"Stop it!" I ordered James, getting in front of him and pushing him back into Louis. James wasn't even looking at me, though: his gaze was over my shoulder, still searingly glaring at Gallagher. "James, he isn't worth the trouble you'll get in," I said quickly and quietly.

"Hiding behind your little mudblood girlfriend, James?" Gallagher mocked in a nasal voice: I turned around to glance at the reason. His nose was pouring blood, and I got a kind of grim satisfaction from that.

James said nothing, just lashed out at us, and I glanced desperately up and down the halls, praying that no teachers would show up. "James, stop!" I yelled at him, trying to block his view of Gallagher.

"HE CALLED YOU A MUDBLOOD!" If I'd thought James had ever exploded before, I'd been wrong: it was like a bomb had gone off, he was that loud, and I stepped back once, blinking, before James tore away from Louis and pulled out his wand, stepping around me. "_Incarcerous!_" How did James even know any good curses?

"_Protego!"_ Gallagher cried, and I turned around in time to see both spells slam into each other in a shower of sparks.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN DO YOU THINK YOU ARE _DOING_?" Professor Longbottom hollered from the other end of the hall, sprinting up to us. "ARE YOU BOYS INSANE? YOU COULD HAVE HURT SOMEONE!" James's furious gaze rose to meet Professor Longbottom's, who slowed to a walk as his eyebrows flew up. "Potter, Gallagher, Finnigan, Weasley, Landau—my office, NOW!" I turned around sheepishly, and Longbottom's eyes flicked to the cut on my face. "Finnigan—what's on your face?" He demanded.

"A cut, sir." I said, a little impertinently, and Longbottom met my gaze, looking furious.

"Come on—my office. And your parents are being owled. Immediately." My heart pounded in my throat suddenly, my eyes widening. Mum and Dad would _kill_ me. There would legitimately be a death. "And Finnigan, you better come up with a damn good cover story for that cut before I contact your father." Longbottom grabbed James's arm and Brian's, dragging them after him.

Louis looked thoroughly miserable as we traded looks behind Longbottom's back, my heart pounding in my chest. How was it the second week of school and I was already being dragged to the head of house's office? At this rate I will have hit the headmistress's office by Christmas.

The walk to the office was silent, and once there, we were directed to a couch. James and Louis worked it so that James was on the end, than me, then Louis, then Landau (who was Brian's friend who'd held him back), then Gallagher. Longbottom pulled up a chair across from the couch he'd forced us onto and sat there, staring at us.

"What happened?" He demanded after a moment, and we all stared at him. His eyes narrowed before he looked straight at me. "What happened to your face, Miss Finnigan?" He asked me curtly, and I swallowed. I was being addressed directly—I would be in pounds more trouble for not answering this than I would be for the last one.

"Banged it getting out of bed this morning." I said after a second, forcing a fake smile onto my face. "I'm so clumsy, especially when I've just woken up."

"That is by far the worst lie I've ever heard." Longbottom said heavily. "I know that Mr. Potter and Mr. Gallagher fought. And since that looks half-healed, I assume that it's been at least a few minutes since." He glanced at us. "Weasley?" He asked after a moment. "You know how she got this?" Longbottom was picking on easy targets—Louis was a generally good kid, who as far as I could tell, didn't give his parents much grief. James seemed like the kind of kid who had battled with his parents from Day One, and I'd spent quite a bit of time at odds with my mother and father. Louis was more likely to spill the beans and pray for a lesser punishment.

"She didn't tell us." Louis said carefully, honestly. Longbottom looked back at me, shaking his head.

"Mr. Landau? Got anything to say?" He questioned the brown-haired boy to Louis's left, and the boy—who was even smaller than I was—shook his head solemnly.

"No sir." He said seriously. Longbottom's eyes narrowed as they swept over us.

"Mr. Gallagher?" He asked after a moment.

"James Potter attacked me, sir." Brian rushed out, and I leaned over my seat to gape at him.

"He called Sera a mudblood!" James cried next to me, breaking ranks, and I smacked my forehead with the palm of my hand.

"She ruined my robes!" Brian retaliated, knowing better than to mention that I'd kicked him between his legs because that would have brought us to the fact that he'd punched my face, and we fell silent as everyone expected me to say something. I just stared stonily at Professor Longbottom, who met my gaze with his own cool one.

"Miss Finnigan? Did you have an explanation for this?" He asked me, and I leaned back on the couch.

"No." I didn't tattle—period. End of story. It didn't matter whether I got in trouble or not. Besides, I had a bad enough rep in this school as was. I didn't need tattle-tale on my list of sucky attributes. They were already contacting my parents, and I wouldn't get more than a day's worth detention: I hadn't been part of the duel, however short it was, and the worst thing I was being blamed for was getting some ink on Gallagher's robes. "However, I'd like to point out that Brian's robes are hardly ruined. A quick scourgify would remedy that. And Professor Picoult said in class that she didn't believe it was my fault."

"Professor Picoult also mentioned that she thought Brian might have tripped you." Longbottom pointed out, his gaze hard on mine. He was _angry_. "And that there might have been some sort of altercation outside her class. Which would explain why you have this cut. And why James reacted so strongly to Brian calling you names." I raised my eyebrows.

"Brian didn't trip me. And I wasn't involved in any altercation." I responded quietly. "And I stumbled out of bed this morning and cracked my head on my bedside table." I said flatly. Longbottom looked mildly amused, now.

"You have some guts." He said after a moment. "Very well—Weasley, Landau, you're scot-free: as far as I can tell, you had no part in this." Louis, beside me, slumped in his chair from relief. "Potter, Gallagher, you each have two nights' worth detention and we'll be notifying your parents." Longbottom sighed before looking at me. "I..." He fell silent. "One night of detention, and notification of your parents." He said haplessly. "But I just don't believe your story, Miss Finnigan. And I'm not going to be the one to explain that cut to your parents."

I nodded seriously.

"Alright." He said heavily, rising. "Report to detention starting tomorrow night, Potter, Gallagher, Finnigan." He sank down behind his desk, bending over a paper and picking up his quill. "You all are dismissed. I'd recommend getting some lunch before the next class starts in forty five minutes." He informed us, and I stood up carefully. James stood up instantly, his eyes on Louis. "And Mr. Potter, I'd suggest you get your hand looked at. You too, Mr. Gallagher—but your ribs, not your hand. The way you're walking suggests you hurt your ribs." I allowed myself a small smirk as I passed Brian, who was blushing heavily, and he glared at me but didn't do anything. Louis followed James and I into the hallway while Gallagher took his sweet time getting to his feet, and the moment the door closed behind us, I exhaled heavily.

"I'm going to get a howler tomorrow morning," I moaned, turning to James. Louis just grabbed my wrist and pulled me sharply along after him, trying to get us as far from Gallagher as soon as possible. James followed predictably.

"Yeah, and had you said he punched you than you wouldn't be." James shot back. "And I might only have one night of detention."

"I don't tattle," I said flatly. "End of story. And had you not attacked Gallagher, you might have _no_ detention." I reminded him, but James's expression didn't soften.

"He's not telling my mother." Louis said in an awed filled voice as we walked slowly towards the great hall, and I turned to him, amused. "I'm not in trouble." Louis sounded like he didn't quite believe it. "It's a miracle. I'm not going to be murdered by—"

"Louis Weasley!" Oh God help us, it was Victoire, and she was angry. Louis wheeled around desperately to face his sister, who looked beyond angry. "What is this I hear about a duel?"

"Spoke too soon." James muttered, and I sighed. We just couldn't catch a break, today.


	5. Bruises

"So what's up in the wizarding world today?" I asked Louis the following morning as the boy poured over his Daily Prophet. Louis was, by far, the one of us most likely to do well in school: I was way too lazy, and James just couldn't care less. And after that, I just thought he felt obligated to be the smart one, so he read the Prophet every morning.

"Oh, you know. Death, destruction. A new store in Hogsmeade." He said tiredly, spooning some cereal up to his mouth, and I raised my eyebrows as I clung to coffee cup that I'd had to beg Victoire to get for me—you weren't allowed to have coffee until third year, but I'd been up so late writing long letters to my parents in some attempt to mollify them before they sent Professor Longbottom a response that I hadn't even started my homework until ten. I'd been up well past midnight, and now I was so tired I couldn't actually think properly.

"That's nice." I said non-commitally, and James chuckled beside me.

"You two sound like idiots, I hope you realize that," He said helpfully, and I blinked at him before frowning.

"We're tired. We were actually up late last night, because unlike _someone_," I cast a not-so-subtle reprimanding glare at James, "we actually _care_ to hand in our homework on time. Lest the teachers murder us."

"Now, now. Murder is frowned upon." Louis said easily, and I looked at him as if this was new information. "They'd probably maim us though."

"Yeah, you two've gone loony." James said with an air of finality. Someone tapped my shoulder and I turned to look up at Alec.

"Hey!" I said cheerfully, before I patted the seat beside me. Alec looked caught between frustrated and amused for a moment before he sighed heavily.

"Heard someone got dragged down to Longbottom's office yesterday." He said in irritation, and I smiled sheepishly. "Sera, your Mum's going to kill you—you realize that, right?" James, behind me, sniggered, but Alec sent him a deadly glare. "Potter, I know you did most of the crap that got her in trouble, so don't even start," He said angrily, and I rolled my eyes. "You got in a fight, Sera? In your second week at school?" He sounded disappointed in me, and I fought to keep looking mischievous rather than guilty.

"Just a tiny one, and Longbottom doesn't know about it." I mumbled, running a hand through my hair. "He only saw James and Gallagher fighting."

"Sera—you freaking scared Wes and me, you know that, right?" He demanded in a heated whisper. "When you almost drowned, when we heard you'd gotten in a fight and were injured—when you hear those things, they freak you out a little bit, and you've just gotta lay-off this stuff, Sera." I gaped at Alec, surprised by the attitude he was taking and feeling defensive.

"Wes doesn't _actually _care, Alec," I mumbled, blushing heavily. "He doesn't _anything_—I haven't spoken to him since you dragged him to the hospital wing to see me that first night. And, do you think I went looking for Gallagher?" I demanded in frustration. "The kid's made my life hell and I retaliated—_sorry_."

"You didn't have to retaliate—God, Sera, that's what he wanted! Besides now he won't stop—what if he hurts you?" Alec sounded angrier than his words suggested.

"He didn't win, Alec! He has just as much detention as James, more than I do. Longbottom didn't let him off easy, and—and—and I don't tell, Alec, you _know_ that." I shot back, still under my breath, and Alec ran his hand wildly through his hair, looking absolutely irate. "Besides, you're my friend—not my dad! What are you doing yelling at me about this?"

"I'm being a good friend, Sera. Gallagher's gonna kick your ass and you're gonna wind up in the hospital wing." He stood up and shoved away from the table and I sighed, turning back to my friends, who were watching me, startled.

"Who's that?" Louis asked tiredly, yawning.

"My god-brother, he's second year." I rolled my eyes. "And extremely annoying." James smirked.

"So is it the entire male population of Hogwarts that you bug, or just us three?" James asked in a pretend-pleasant voice, and I shoved his shoulder lightly. "Now, now, no need to get—oh, _hell_." He mumbled as the owls swept into the great hall, two of them holding the big red envelopes that marked Howlers. One of them was mine—a brown and white speckled owl named Duke—and I assumed the other was James's, because we both had red envelopes that caught themselves, floating lightly before us. The entire hall fell silent as I swallowed with difficulty, my heart pounding in my throat.

"Open it, it'll be worse if you don't," Rory Corner, a boy who had been on the boat with us and had been sorted into Gryffindor, said quietly from beside Louis. "At least, that's what I heard..." My envelope began to smolder, and I considered my chances of getting it out of the hall before it exploded.

None, because a second later, mine and James's flipped open by themselves.

"_SERAFINA FINNIGAN, WHAT COULD HAVE POSSIBLY POSSESSED YOU TO GET IN A FIGHT WITH OTHER CHILDREN?"_ Oh, lord, it was my mother, and her voice was filled with all the disappointment of have a child like me. _"YOU HAVE BEEN TOO STUPID TOO MANY TIMES TO NOT KNOW HOW TO HANDLE SITUATIONS LIKE THAT—I CANNOT _BELIEVE_ HOW IRRESPONSIBLE YOU WERE! WHEN YOU COME HOME FOR CHRISTMAS, YOUNG LADY, MARK MY WORDS, YOU WILL BE GROUNDED! FOR EASTER BREAK AS WELL!_" I groaned and pressed my hand to my forehead. I was never going to have a life again. "_HOW DARE YOU DISRESPECT YOUR FATHER AND I LIKE THAT—WE HAVE SPENT YEARS TEACHING YOU THE RIGHT WAY TO DO THINGS AND THEN YOU GO FLAUNTING HOW IGNORANT YOU ARE ABOUT REAL LIFE!_" My howler attempted to swallow itself and ended up just tearing itself into a colorful little confetti that landed on my plate and burst into flames. James's finished a few moments later, and the silence in the great hall was defeaning. I felt my face begin to heat up—this was so embarrassing. And probably one of the worse days of my life.

Moreover, Gallagher hadn't gotten a howler.

"That could have been worse." Louis tried, and I raised my eyebrows. Rory was trying his hardest not to laugh, and I fixed him with an icy glare. He wasn't deterred, though: in fact, Rory was probably the first of the people in the Great Hall to begin laughing.

"I'm sorry, that was hilarious—you guys, you..." Rory was practically choking on his own laughter. "You both got howlers!" Everyone I could see was laughing now, and I swallowed, blushing again. God, did I hate to be embarrassed, and, God, was this embarrassing.

"Well, this is pleasant," James whispered to me sarcastically, and I just covered my face with my hands. Please, kill me now.

---

Two days later, no one had killed me yet, but I was borderline ready to kill Teddy Lupin. The boy was working the quidditch practice harder than anything we'd ever have to do in a game, I was pretty sure. We were running laps, doing pushups, doing sit-ups (hanging by our knees from our brooms, by the way, which added the painful falling factor), and finally getting around to doing some actual _Quidditch_ work. After four hours of conditioning. God freaking help me.

"Come on, guys," Teddy said in a sickeningly cheerful voice, and I scowled at him but dragged myself from the ground and turned around to offer James a hand up, my stomach turning over and over as I tried not to vomit from over-exertion. James took my hand and I helped him up, both of us sweating ridiculously but determined as hell to make it on. "Let's get on the brooms and try some fun stuff, huh? Seven v. Seven—Potter, Bulby, Jordan, Lynch, Vector and Landau, my team." Teddy said quickly. "Finnigan and Finnigan, Vane, Frobisher, Dukelow, Langer and McClellan, you're a team. Everybody else, sit down, we'll rotate in a little bit." My stomach turned over. Teddy had put Wes and I on the same team.

Wes was a beater (like James) and already on the team, and I was a chaser—by definition, our jobs didn't have _all_ that much to do with each other, aside from the fact that he was supposed to keep me from getting pummeled by bludgers. But I still was unsure of how we were supposed to work together: we didn't get along well. It was just a fact that was acknowledged by pretty much anyone who knew us.

"Good luck," James said cheerfully, and I grinned at him.

"Don't need it, we're gonna kick your asses." I said enthusiastically, and he grinned at me, neither of us responding. As grumpy as we were for having to work so hard for so long, there was something cathartic of being worked to the bone after all the stress of the last two weeks. Wes glared at me as he passed me and I scowled back: I didn't understand why he was angry at me, but he definitely was.

I carefully got on my broom and kicked off expertly, hovering about twenty feet off the ground.

"Little Finnigan?" Teddy asked, zooming up beside me and stopping there. "Your cheek give you anymore trouble?" He asked me quietly.

"Nah, but I wouldn't tell my brother that you're the one who fixed me up. He and my god-brother seem pretty determined to make me suffer for screwing up." I informed him, and Teddy rolled his eyes.

"They're just worried about you. I was pissed at James for a day or so but I got over it. James gives us these scares all day every day. Less often with you, I guess: give Wes time to get used to it." Teddy said quietly, and I nodded. "Good luck." Teddy scooted off, and I drifted back towards the goalposts as one of the kids who were out of rotation let out the balls on the ground—and both bludgers aimed straight for me.

I slammed forward, darting away, and the bludgers _followed_ me. Was this part of the quidditch try out? And I was sure someone would have warned me—Wes might not have liked me very much, but I was fairly sure he didn't want me dead. And Teddy Lupin seemed to think pretty well of me.

"What the..." James murmured as he watched me tear across the pitch, my gaze flicking frantically between my route and the bludgers behind me. I turned the nose of my broom straight up, my breath coming faster now.

"Wes, _help_ her!" Teddy shouted at my brother as he forced forward, and I sliced through the air frantically, wishing I had a better broom. This didn't go fast enough for long enough—I had another minute or two of chase left before the thing puttered back to normal speed for a bit.

"Shit, shit, shit," I mumbled as I leaned closer to my broom and prayed someone would catch the stupid balls before they killed me.

"James, David, Elias, Wes—what do you think those beater bats are for?" Teddy yelled at the beaters, and I swallowed hard before ducking my head and allowing my broom to drop thirty feet before picking back up and speeding off. "What the bloody hell is wrong with those bludgers?"

"Go get a teacher," Someone pled frantically.

"The balls are too fast, we can't stop them," Wes called out, his panic audible.

One of the bludgers came up beside me, and as if mocking me, waited a moment before slamming into my ribs. I swallowed a scream as I struggled for breath, dropping on my broom a few feet before I remembered I had to keep going. The pain in my ribs was burning, though, and it hurt to breathe even as I gasped to gain back the air I'd lost in the blow. I leaned forward on my broom, flattening myself to it as I clutched my side with one hand, sucking in air and trying to keep the tears of pain at bay—I couldn't cry at my stupid quidditch try out, I couldn't. A bludger made a whooshing noise behind me and I did a Sloth-grip roll, my heart pounding in my chest: I didn't do fancy quidditch. I just played to win. Fortunately, thought, the bludgers soared past me, their momentum carrying them over my broom, and I swung back up, breathing heavily while clutched my rubs, blinking away tears.

James came up to me as the bludgers swept to the other end of the pitch and began to turn. "You okay?" He asked me, his voice wild with concern, and I shook my head, unable to speak as I was still gasping for breath: something was wrong with my lungs. "Oh, crap." He mumbled, as the bludgers began to come towards us, and I forced my broom upward, getting far away from James so they couldn't hit him.

"Teddy, she can't breathe!" James called out, sounding scared, and everyone's eyes flicked from James to me. I didn't even spare them a glance, veering away around one of the higher towers of seats, and the bludgers tore right through it. I slammed upward and over the tower before the next one slammed into my ankle with a sickening cracking sound, and I screamed, my eyes shutting as tears blurred my vision and I lost grip on my broom, causing it to swerve wildly. I took light, shallow breaths in an effort not to aggravate my ribs and glanced down at my ankle—my foot was at a dramatic left angle to my leg. Broken.

Damn.

I got lower to the ground, not trusting myself to stay on the broom if a bludger hit me again. I swallowed, trying to remember a shield spell, any shield spell as I tried to steer with one hand and pulled out my wand. "_Protego!_" I coughed out, and the bludger bounced back about ten feet—thank God, this was working. Wait, there was only one bludger behind me—

Slam.

One came up at me from the bottom, catching me in the stomach and knocking me clear off the broom: I didn't have the breath left to scream, but if I had, I would have. I was going to die, I was fairly sure: I'd gotten closer to the ground, but closer to the ground in quidditch is forty feet instead of sixty. Forty feet is a hell of a long way to fall. And my ribs were killing me, my lungs were messed up, and my ankle was just about ready to kill me. I was going to die, and Alec would be pissed and James would be grumpy and Louis would probably be the only one emotionally mature enough to cry.

"Sera!" Wes and James, maybe? I couldn't quite tell, there might have been one or two more people shouting, but those were the only two I could imagine being truly alarmed enough to shout my name, as if that would be enough to save me. But even as I was praying I'd die the second I hit the ground and not have any kind of agonizing, slow death, I blacked out.

---

My return to consciousness was slow, if painless: my lungs weren't being weird anymore, so I could breathe, and my ribs and ankle were no longer broken, I could tell. I swallowed a few times—my mouth felt _gross_, what potions had crazy Madame Pomfrey been giving me?—before daring to allow myself to open my eyes.

"You're awake!" Louis said delightedly as my gaze locked on his, and I blinked up at him.

"Hey," I murmured, glancing around me: Louis was on my right, next to James, and Wes was sitting on my left, looking upset. "How long was I out?"

"An hour." James said quietly. I sat up carefully, meeting Wes's gaze. Wes was just staring at me, his gaze frantically searching mine.

"I thought we agreed." He said painfully. "That I was about forty years too young to have a heart attack." He was frowning. "And seeing my baby sister _plummet from her broom_ can do that, you know." I suddenly felt guilty about what I'd said to Alec about Wes: Wes did care, in his own way. He wasn't that emotional, though, so I didn't see it much. And we weren't exactly close, so when I did see him being emotional, he was usually angry. "Give people heart attacks." He clarified.

"Didn't mean it," I mumbled uncomfortably.

"Alec almost burst into tears when he heard. I swear it, Sera, you're running the kid into the ground with worry." Wes said flatly. "And you're my sister, but he's as close as I get to a brother, and you're _killing_ him with this stuff."

"I really am sorry. It wasn't my fault or anything, but I'm sorry that you and Alec have to keep getting so scared." I said tiredly. Wes just looked away, but he didn't look angry, so I glanced at James and Louis. Lou still just looked delighted I'd woken up: James's expression was stony, but I'd seen how worried he was on the field. "So what the bloody hell was up with those bludgers?" I asked after a moment.

"I don't know, but all the teachers are freaking out—apparently this happened to James's dad, back when Voldemort was after him." Louis said quietly, making my eyes widen a little bit, and James nodded, his eyes frightened.

"Oh." I said softly. "But... what'd they do about it? Those things were persistent." I stretched my arms out above my head, wincing a little at the soreness.

"Blew the bludgers up." James said shortly. "Patil, Picoult and Wood all came out to stop 'em from killing you." _Killing you_. Professor Longbottom had thought someone was trying to kill me the first night I was here, that the target was Divya or me, but I'd dismissed that after nothing had happened in the next few days and had come to the conclusion that no one _wanted_ to kill me. There was no reason to kill me. I was useless—my family wasn't wealthy or affluent, and no one had done anything particularly good or bad. We Finnigans just sort of floated around. Dad ran a quidditch-supply store in Wales and Mum taught to pre-Hogwarts kids, teaching them to read and stuff.

My gaze locked with James, panic seizing me, and he looked away and forcing my gaze to Louis, who looked so anxious that he might cry, his previous delirium gone as he realized the same thing at the same time I did. "Oh." I whispered, swallowing rapidly, before I turned to Wes. I couldn't cry—Wes didn't understand, didn't know about what we'd heard Longbottom say. And he wasn't going to. "Um, they didn't call Mum and Dad, did they?"

"Nah." Wes said softly. "I talked Pomfrey out of it. Figured Mum was pissed enough with you already." I scrubbed at my eyes tiredly. I had to get Wes out of here so James, Louis and I could discuss whether this was some weird murder attempt or not—more over, _I_ had to get out of here. I hated this stupid place.

"Thanks." I said absent-mindedly. Then it hit me, the question that hadn't been asked or answered. "Wait, did I make the team?" I asked hesitantly: considering I'd never actually gotten around to any quidditch, I sincerely doubted that I had. Wes's eyebrows flew up, and James's stony expression faded to one of careful amusement.

"You're insane!" Louis cried, throwing his hands in the air and averting his eyes to the gods, as if asking them for help in dealing with me. "You just almost got yourself _killed_ your first time playing quidditch here—"

"The bludgers aren't supposed to be charmed to follow me—" I interrupted, but Louis paid me no heed, and continued.

"And you wake up after getting beaten to a pulp and falling forty some feet and getting saved at the last possible moment by James who was practically in tears for the first time in his freaking life—_and you ask if you're on the team_." Louis finished his monologue fiercely, and I took all that in, before I glanced at James, who was blushing so heavily I wouldn't have been surprised if he turned red permanently.

"You're _scarlet_." I said, grinning, and he met my gaze shakily. Poor James still looked scared to death.

"And Teddy's letting you on the team on probation. He hasn't actually seen you be Chaser yet, but you were pretty damn good avoiding the bludgers." James said quietly. "Broom handling is a big part of being a quidditch player though, and you did a sloth roll and Teddy, between having a heart attack and shield-charming us mentioned how impressed he was." I nodded, processing this before asking my only question.

"Probation?" I asked, confused. "And did you make it on?

"You'll play three games and he'll reevaluate." James translated quietly. I grinned—it was the best I could expect, after being beat to a pulp by those stupid bludgers. No one else looked quite as elated as I was, but I was coming off a high of surviving a fall I shouldn't have and getting on the quidditch team. "And I'm on too."

"Yes!" I said, falling back on my pillows and giggling. I'd only sort of made it on, but it was ten times closer than I'd thought I'd ever get.

"Ah, stop giggling," James said irritably. "Stop it, you sound like... like... like a girl!" I stopped laughing and glared at him, punching his shoulder. "Ow," He muttered, sitting back in his chair, but Louis looked satisfied, and Wes was just scowling darkly at us.

"I am a girl, dolt." I informed him. "And if I want to giggle, I will." I turned to my big brother, grinning uncontrollably again. "And stop being so grumpy. I'm okay, I'm almost on the team, and you don't have to beat me or Alec up for upsetting the other."

"Who would try to kill you?" Wes asked quietly, and I sighed heavily, my grin dropping. "Someone charmed those bludgers, Sera, to kill you. Or at least hurt you. Who the hell would do that?"

"I don't know—maybe it was just some kid's bad idea for a joke." I tried softly, and Wes shook his head, falling silent. He wasn't stupid: he wasn't going to fall for that, especially when he was still so freaked out from my fall. "Kay, guys, you should probably go get some food or something." I said after a second. "I'm gonna get some sleep, I'm still a little sore." James looked guilty feeling, but didn't say anything as he and Louis murmured their goodbyes: Wes scowled at me once before ruffling my hair and following them out silently.

I laid back down and curled up on my side, biting my lip to keep my eyes from watering. Someone was trying to kill me.

Why the bloody hell would anyone want to do that?


	6. Say

"James!" I cried helplessly as I dropped my forehead to my parchment. "Help! I suck! I can't do transfiguration! Who _cares_ whether I can turn a chair into a candle or a mouse into a needle?" James grinned at me and Louis chuckled, stealing my paper before James had a chance to reach for it.

"Oh, Merlin, Sera, this is a mess." Louis said amusedly as he looked down at my paper, and I looked up at him desperately.

"Are you _kidding_ me? I've been working on it for the past hour..." I whined, and James reached for the paper glancing over it before looking up at me incredulously.

"Were you even _in_ class?" He demanded, and I scowled at him, snatching my paper back.

"Ah, I'm going to fail. Can you flunk out of Hogwarts?" I cried, slamming the paper down and pouring over the lines I'd thought were at least edging towards right. "Wait, why isn't this right? Isn't that right?" I demanded, underlining one line and sliding it across the table to Louis, who glanced down at it and shook his head.

"You'll be like the first-ever first-year to flunk out." James said helpfully, grinning at Louis. "Probably make the Prophet. Imagine the headlines now: First-Year Flunks, What Went Wrong. You'll be the topic of parenting magazines everywhere."

"Shut it and help me!" I ordered irritably. Then I rethought it. "Please." I added after a moment, and James laughed. "James..." I said desperately. James just kept laughing, and I scowled at him, before turning to Louis. "Louis, please?" I asked desperately, as I pushed my hair out of my face with a careless hand, and Louis swallowed before nodding, and I slid my paper back to him before scooting up beside him, leaning over the paper. Louis hesitated before scratching out a line here and there, correcting it, and I glanced up at him gratefully, and he blushed. I glanced at James, raising my eyebrows, but he just shrugged at me.

"There, all fixed. Course, now it's about half a scroll shorter..." He said, shoving it back at me hastily, and I scooted away from him, startled but thankful.

"Jeez, I swear, Rostov is _trying_ to kill me," I muttered, mentioning my transfiguration teacher. The man already hated me, though how exactly that was, I wasn't sure. I hadn't done anything hateful as far as I was concerned—but he'd docked ten points from me for being late to class when I'd just come from the hospital wing because Madame Pomfrey wouldn't release me a moment earlier. "Who asks first years to write three scrolls on what we learned every month? Really?" I demanded, and James just shook his head.

"Apparently—"

"I wouldn't do that." Rory Corner said, sitting down beside me. "She might kill you. Sera's quite scary when she wants to be." I grinned at Rory, who just shook his head.

"Oh, they know." I said pleasantly. I held up my paper. "Do you have this too?"

"Yeah, but unlike someone I know, I didn't leave it till the last minute." He said helpfully, and kicked him under the table. "Ow! Merlin, Sera." Rory whined, rubbing his leg under the table, and I just glared coldly at him.

It'd been three weeks since the bludger "incident" as Teddy Lupin called it, and not much had changed. Alec and I had completely made up, Louis and James and I were still wreaking having around the castle, and Gallagher still liked to trip me in class. I still was on the quidditch team on probation because we'd only played two games and Lupin hadn't had the chance to reevaluate yet. And Wes and I hadn't spoken in two weeks in our awkward way, but that was fine. Mum and Dad hadn't written to me in a while, but I was okay with that—Mum just drove me crazy, and Dad had made it clear with a letter of his own how disappointed he was with my fight with Gallagher. And since I was being sort of a prideful brat, I still hadn't told them what had really happened, that Gallagher had been the idiot: I didn't want them to tell the teachers. They thought I was having two boys fight over me or something—anyway, the idea was too stupid for me to even consider, much less combat.

But one thing had changed: we'd made some other friends. Rory and Louis were pretty good friends now, and I'd made friends with a girl in my dorm, Edie Bones. Well, you know, acquaintances. I just wasn't one of those girls with a lot of girlfriends—I didn't quite get how to take girls who spent most of their time simpering after Louis or James seriously. It was hard to hold conversations with them too—I'd mention one of them and the girl in question would melt. And then I'd just feel... awkward.

"Hi Louis!" One of the less pleasant girls in my dorm, Daisy Auden, said cheerfully as she walked up. Daisy had deep brown hair and was about five feet, four inches tall—by far the tallest girl in our dorm of five—and left me angry and irritated almost every time we conversed.

"Hi," Louis said cautiously, shooting me a look.

"Hi Daisy." I said when she blatantly didn't greet the rest of us as she sank down between Rory and Louis. James raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, hey Serafina." She said lazily, and I sighed, glancing at James and Rory nervously, my good mood gone. I didn't like Daisy _at all_. "James! Rory! I didn't see you guys there!" She resumed her bubbly tone, and I rolled my eyes, glaring down at my homework. Maybe if I ignored her she'd leave. "James, I never got to tell you—you played so _well_ last quidditch match." She said in an annoying voice, and I exhaled sharply through my nose and scribbled on my paper, trying to fix my transfiguration essay to make it longer. "I mean, really."

"Thanks." James said shortly.

"And Serafina, I think if you work on catching the quaffle, you'll be okay." She said, sounding a little snippy.

"I didn't drop it." I said flatly, looking up at her.

"No, no, I'm sure you did, I saw it." She corrected, and I just pushed some of my hair back behind my ears. "I mean, it was okay, because the other chasers kept catching it, but I know I wouldn't be okay with being a burden on my teammates like that." James's eyebrows rose wordlessly and Louis was looking immensely uncomfortable, while Rory scowled at Daisy.

"Daisy, I'm so not in the mood, alright?" I told the other girl tartly. "Tomorrow I'll argue with you." I paused a second. "And I wouldn't be on the team if I wasn't a good chaser." I informed her. "So someone obviously thought I was okay."

"I heard you were on probation." She said innocently, her eyes flashing. "Because you messed up so bad you fell off your broom at try-outs, right?"

"The bludgers were charmed after me, and Lupin thought my broom work was good enough to let me on." I told her in annoyance, before realizing she'd dragged me to a fight—dang it. I sat back in my chair crossing my arms across my chest in irritation. Now I had to win.

"Daisy, Sera—come on." Louis begged, shooting me a pleading look.

"I was gonna try out for quidditch, but then I thought about whether I was good enough." She paused, smiling at me peculiarly. "At least I had enough sense to stop myself before I embarrassed myself in front of the entire school." She rose to her feet before I could say anything, and walked away to join Bethany Oakbey and Aileen Quigley by the fire, and I just rolled my eyes as I glanced back down at my essay. I hadn't won, but I was tired and too lazy to come up with any good insults.

"I hate that girl." I grumbled, and James snorted in sarcastic laughter.

"I really can't see why." He said dryly.

"Just the pleasantest girl." Rory agreed sarcastically, and I flashed a grin at them before looking back at my essay. Louis looked concerned.

"Why doesn't she like you?" He asked me.

"Cuz I'm friends with you lot." I answered thoughtlessly, before I realized the effect this would have. I glanced up at the boys, smiling ruefully at James and Louis's suddenly horrified expressions, and Rory sighed.

"You too?" He asked me, and I nodded. "Gallagher?" I nodded again.

"He's such a pain in the arse." I replied, and James and Louis glanced at both of us, still looking horrified. "Oh, come on guys, I know it sucks but I'm obviously not that bothered by it." I informed them. "And Rory doesn't seem to be that bothered either, so just... it doesn't matter." I tried. "And Daisy doesn't like me because I'm friends with _boys_. It's not because I'm friends with _James and Louis_. Only some kids have issues with you two. And most of those kids I wouldn't like anyway, so it doesn't matter." I tried not to think of Divya, who hadn't spoken to me since the day we'd been sorted, or the way she was definitely one of the gossipers in my Muggle Studies class.

The thing was, it was sort of a self-esteem killer that I had no girl friends. Edie was nice and all, but she and Aileen Quigley, another girl in my dorm, were already best friends, and I hated Aileen, which I knew if I wanted to be legitimate friends with Edie, would become a problem. And Divya had obviously ditched. The only girl I could remotely even talk to was Victoire—who was my best friend's big sister and a fifth-year who obviously had no interest in a first year. I was friends with Colin Creevy, the boy who'd been on our boat that first night—who was a Ravenclaw, and I thought a lot of the Ravenclaw girls were nicer than the Gryffindor ones, but I spent more time in Gryffindor common room than any other place. And I was friends with Rory, sort of kind of. But no girls.

"How does it not matter?" James demanded, and I sighed heavily, I was not having this debate again.

"I like you two enough to be friends with you—if other people can't deal with that, it's their problem not ours," I recited. Rory grinned. "Now, to prove that you like me enough to be friends with me—help!" I shoved my paper back at Louis, who relaxed a little bit but didn't look totally comforted.

"Anyone other than Gallagher?" James asked us quietly, and I shrugged, trading looks with Rory. Yes, there were lots of others, but the others were insignificant, kids who just gossiped to gossip, or kids who didn't have the same issues Gallagher obviously did. Gallagher's friend, Gregor Landau, seemed to be a bit of a problem, but he was also a lot less subtle than Brian, so it wasn't ever a teacher-involved problem. He also seemed a bit dimmer than Gallagher.

"Yeah, but stop talking about it James, you're just gonna drive yourself crazy." I told him softly, looking up at him. "It does suck, you're right—but it's not your fault. So stop."

And that was the end of it.

---

"Come on, James, _get your weight behind the swing!_" Teddy shouted at James three days later as we floated above the darkening quidditch pitch. It was post practice, technically we didn't even have to still be here, but I figured that I could use the extra points if I wanted Teddy to reevaluate after the next game well. And James had stayed out for moral support, even though it'd be hard to get him to admit it.

"I am!" He protested, glaring at his godbrother.

"Then you weigh less than Lily," He retorted, and it took me a moment to catch up to the fact that Teddy was talking about James's seven-year-old sister. Sometimes it was hard—with James and Louis, James and Teddy, Louis and Victoire—to talk to this giant family, with all the references I didn't understand. "Come on, James."

"Aww, lay off him, Teddy, he's doing fine." Wes shouted from the stands. "Better than I did first year, and what's-his-name let met on!" I grinned down at Wes, waving to him, and waved back bemusedly.

"Glad to know your quidditch captains leave such impressions on you, Finnigan!" Teddy shouted back at my brother, who grinned cheekily.

"Now now, Teddy." I chided, wagging my finger at him and keeping one hand firmly on my broom. "Don't get your panties in a bunch." Teddy's eyebrows rose about a foot up his forehead but he remained silent. "I'm sure we'll remember _you_. I mean, who wouldn't remember the team captain who tried to kill his team every single practice?" I demanded, and Teddy rolled his eyes. "I mean really. Who _needs_ charmed bludgers, these days—we have _you_!" I said mock-delightedly.

"So melodramatic." He muttered. "I've yet try to kill you. I'm vaguely fond of my team, peculiar as it may seem." He seemed to consider this, then deem it too nice to stand alone. "And practice your throwing, squirt. You can't miss when Gallagher's trying to beat you to a pulp with the bludgers."

"Ew, no, do not call me that." I warned him. "I'm not squirt. I liked Little Finnigan better than squirt."

"Hah, squirt." James said, sounding pleased. I smacked my forehead. Stupid, stupid boys. Stupid boys who never listened to their godbrothers/quidditch captains until, of course, they came up with an über annoying nickname for their best friend and then suddenly—poof!—Teddy's word was the bible.

"I'm totally calling you that from now on!" Wes called up, and I glared down at him, before my glance shifted up to Teddy, than James. "Teddy, you're a genius!"

"Can you hit a bludger at him?" I asked James, smiling charmingly at him, and James blushed heavily, before seeming to swallow and pull it together: my smile faded to a confused frown. What? The boys had been doing this more, recently—the blush, swallow, and recover. It was clumsy and more common now than it had been earlier in the year and was driving me _insane_.

"Nah. My mum would actually kill me." He said. "Woman likes him more than me some days, I swear it."

"Leave Auntie Ginny alone," Teddy said irritably. "And get your weight behind that stupid bludger!"

---

The next day was our next game, against Slytherin. And Teddy had sworn up and down to me that he wouldn't play me in the first part of the game, had volunteered that information before I'd even mentioned how nervous I was playing against Gallagher as beater. God, Gallagher as a beater. James looked about ready to kill when he heard, and Louis had been outright scowling at the kid all week, which turned most of the girls in Gryffindor tower against Brian, which I did appreciate.

And then our chasers got banned for the game for pranking some teacher.

"You dolts!" Teddy shouted at them in the locker room as they came to tell us the morning of the game. "All three of you? Are you really that stupid? To do a prank and have _all three of you_ get caught? I'm a freaking _prefect_ and I could do that better than you two—what is _wrong_ with you!"

James shot me an annoyed look.

"You do realize who our back up chasers are, right? Two second years and a first year—and they're supposed to be rotated in with you dolts, not up the entire game with only each other!" The other chasers, the two second-years that Teddy had just inadvertently insulted with me, were Grace McClellan and Nelly Vane, both of whom were sort of spit-fire girls who were best friends half the time and warring the rest of it. And this sort of slight insult didn't pass them well.

"Teddy we're _fantastic_ chasers!" Grace protested, glaring at our captain, and Teddy ran his hand down his face desperately. "Sera's great—did you see her last game? That Hawkshead Formation—she fell right into that, and we never practiced it before! That was fantastic."

"Grace, I'm sure Teddy just meant that he wasn't expecting them to mess—" Duane Jordan tried to mollify Grace, and was sent searing glares by Nelly and Grace before he fell silent.

"That's just rude, Teddy Lupin, just rude!" Selma Langer, our first-string seeker and a fourth-year like Wes, mocked, imitating Grace's voice, and I grinned at her, a mix of adrenaline and nerves creating a drunk sort of effect for me. She put her hands on her hips and continued. "We are _fantastic_ chasers, even if we are the size of the gnomes in the garden!"

"Grace, no," I muttered warningly, grabbing the robes of the girl in front of me. "If you kill her, Teddy'll kill _you_." I explained reasonably. James grinned at me.

"Ah, too true. And then we'll have to forfeit." James pointed out. "And Teddy might cry then."

"And I would laugh and laugh and laugh." David Bulby, beater and sixth year, said cheerfully. He was the heir apparent to the captainship and he and Teddy had a friendly competition going on with who would be a better captain.

"I will kill you all if you don't take this seriously!" Teddy exploded. "I am going to win that cup this year, and so help me god, if it's stopped by you idiots trying to pull off a bad prank or the Slytherin beater _killing_ my back up chaser or McClellan getting so high on her soapbox that she can't see the quaffle anymore, I will jump off the astronomy tower!" I blinked.

"Gallagher can't kill me. He can barely even get a punch in before I kick him in his balls." I retorted, frowning, and Teddy met my gaze, blinking once before sitting down and put his head in his hands. "Besides, James would probably tackle him off his broom before he ever got around to killing me."

"Kill me. Please." Teddy begged.

"Gladly." Grace growled, still not placated. I turned to grin at James, conveying my thoughts with a flat look.

We were going to lose. But at least it would be kind of hilarious.

---

It was less hilarious on the field.

Grace had taken a bludger to the head in the first ten minutes, which Selma had already sworn to me was coming to her, and had been out cold. Which of course, left us one chaser down. Which meant that Duane Jordan, who was back-up keeper, had to come in for chaser, which meant that Elias Landau (supposed-to-be beater) had to be back-up keeper, which meant that there were only three beaters in rotation and beating is apparently really tiring, because every five minutes the guys were coming in and out.

Which meant, after all of that, that we were _bad_.

"And Finnigan—mind you, that's little Fin, not big one—gets the quaffle, tearing off down the field with chasers in tow and passes it to Nelly Vane before blocking Slytherin seeker Marina Iglesias, and—ooh, that looked like it hurt for both parties involved. Oops!" Duane's older brother, Eric, said excitedly. Marina Iglesias and I had just had a side collision, which was a little bit of an accident and left both of us with ribs.

"Watch where you're going," She growled at me. Marina was a strongly-built third year, small but intense, and took quidditch extremely seriously.

"I will if you will." I mumbled, unable to think of a good retort, zooming away, and James took off across the field, before swinging wildly at a bludger that was directed at Teddy and sending it back towards the Slytherin keeper, who dove out of the way, and Nelly Vane shoulder-slammed into the boy on his way down, before pulling away frantically. We weren't usually this violent, but it was generally agreed that Slytherin and Gryffindor would beat each other up in quidditch and get it out of our systems.

Brian slammed his bat into a bludger towards me, and I allowed myself to drop four feet and flattened myself to my broom, shooting off towards the Slytherin chasers, who were currently in position of the quaffle. One of them was about ten feet up and another was about ten feet down, and when the top one tried to drop the ball to the bottom one, I snagged it and tore off, passing to Nelly, who passed to Duane, who smacked it with the tail of his broom back to me and I scored, grinning hugely.

"And Gryffindor gets another ten points with a _beautiful_ three-man effort on Vane, Lee and Finnigan's part—and big Finnigan takes out one of the Slytherin chasers with a bludger, was that Hofstadter? And Hofstadter's back with a—not allowed to do that!" Eric finished his excited commentary with an indignant cry, I looked up from the middle of the field to see the chaser that Wes had just nailed with a bludger swing a punch at Wes's face. "Hey!"

Eric Lee didn't have to defend him for long, though: Wes swung back with a vengeance, his eyes blazing, and Teddy spotted me with the quaffle and signaled that I had to hold onto it before rushing forward and dragging Wes backwards.

"Play the game don't watch us!" Teddy hollered before he launched into an impromptu speech to my brother, and I slammed away from the Slytherin chasers, my heart pounding.

"Lupin, get back to the goal posts!" Duane shouted frantically as the chasers began to get closer, and I swallowed. "Scold Finnigan later!"

And then a roar of applause rose from Slytherin—their seeker had caught the snitch.

Damn.

---

After the game, Teddy sat at one of the tables in the common room, and I stood jumpily at the foot of the stairs between Louis and James, staring at him and praying he'd call me over to tell me I was on the team.

"He has to let me on, right?" I whispered to Louis. "It's not my fault we didn't win today, and I've scored some goals."

"I think so." Louis murmured. "I mean, Teddy likes you fine. And he likes your brother. And he likes us. So at least he's not biased. Or, you know, badly biased." Louis backtracked, before shaking his head and continuing.

"Go ask!" James whispered to me.

"What if he says no?" I whispered back, and Alec glanced up at us from where he was sitting with his friends, amused.

"Lupin?" He asked loudly, and Teddy glanced up from whatever homework he was working on. "Can you tell Sera whether or not she made the team, cuz she's been standing at the stairs for like twenty minutes now." I shot an icy glare at my godbrother, and Alec smiled angelically at me.

"Oh! Sorry squirt, I forgot I was supposed to reevaluate." He paused, twisting around to glance at James, Louis and me. "Yeah, you made the team."

"Yes!" I cried happily, grinning. "Thank you _so_ much." I hugged Louis tightly, then James, and Louis chuckled lightly, patting my back. "Ah, I'm on the team!"

"Quit it, you sound like a girl," James said gruffly, and I scowled at him.

"What exactly do you think I am, genius?" I demanded.

"I dunno," He said uncertainly, rubbing the back of his neck, and I sighed heavily, shaking my head.

"Stupid," I muttered, then grinned again. "I'm on the team!"


	7. Big Girls Don't Cry

So I've edited this chapter...and changed it a whole bunch. :] i like this one more, and it fits with the story more. Sorry guys for the change!

xoxo

Care

* * *

"What should I get Louis for his birthday?" I asked James and Rory seriously as I bounded into the boys' dorm. I knew Louis was getting some help in potions from Teddy so I was alright to talk to James and Rory for at least a half hour.

It'd been a week and a half since I'd made the quidditch team, and everything was going well while Wes and whoever had punched Wes on the quidditch pitch that day served out their detentions. We'd won our last game against Ravenclaw by over 200 points (150 are from the snitch, mind you, so don't go getting too excited) and Teddy had been so happy we hadn't even needed a post-game recap of what we did wrong.

"Just get him some candy or a remember-all or something." Rory suggested, and I frowned, shaking my head.

"It has to be good." I said seriously. "I mean, I haven't known him that long and we're, um, best friends and stuff and I want to make sure to do this right." I frowned, sitting on James's bed and picking up a book and flipping through it lazily, before looking up. "I mean, James, you're his cousin, so you're almost off the hook. And Rore...well actually, you've got the same issue, so what are _you _getting him?"

"I dunno." Rory said, shrugging. "Just some candy. I'm trying to convince my sister to pick me up some in Hogsmeade this weekend. Maybe some prank things, but that doesn't seem very... Louis."

"I know!" I exclaimed. "I thought about everything—I can't think of anything to get him, though, I'm so annoyed." I glared, and James grinned at me.

"He'll like whatever. Louis knows he's hard to buy for." James said honestly, and I met his gaze desperately. "You're actually freaking out about this, aren't you?" He asked me after a moment, and I nodded, running a hand distractedly through my hair.

"I wish we could go to Hogsmeade." I said quietly. "I really need to get him a good present."

"Louis won't care." Rory informed me seriously. "Just send away for something."

"No, he will." I said determinedly. "Everyone pretends they don't care and then they get a good present and they're thrilled. Even I do it." I informed them, and James frowned at me, before his expression went blank: he was trying to wrestle a smile. He flipped open his trunk and pulled out a massive cloak and a piece of parchment, putting them on the bed. I lifted the parchment and glanced down at it, unfolding the paper and looking down at it. It was old, ratty.

"James, what...?" I asked after a moment, confused.

"Marauder's Map." He said quietly, obviously trying to play it cool, and I waited a moment before scowling at him. He was being stupid.

"Oh, quit it with the suspense and explain," I ordered. "I know you're psyched to tell us what you mean and you just wanna try to get us as excited as you are." James scowled at me for a second before his eyes flashed with a grin: he _was_ excited.

Rory laughed a little bit, and James hit his arm before continuing. "Okay, my grandpa, Teddy's dad and their two friends made it, it's this map thing that shows you where everyone is and it's got all these secret passages and stuff." James said hurriedly, and I nodded, trying to take this seriously. Teddy's dad and James's grandfather had been best friends, and I knew that both of them had died heroes, fighting Voldemort. Dad had practically taught me a course on the Wizarding Wars before I hit Hogwarts: he wanted to make sure that I didn't walk in with any misinformation, or get myself into any problems because I didn't know enough. Dean had apparently been really brave and been kidnapped and stuff, too, but Dad had been less detailed about that. Anyway, making fun of this probably wasn't the best idea if Teddy's dead father had been vital to the creation of it. "Teddy gave it to me—says he's memorized it, got it from my dad." He grinned again. "It's the best, honest."

"You're sure he's not fooling you?" I asked suspiciously, frowning at the paper. It was ancient, yellowing with age, so the timeline fit, but it looked so... unassuming.

"Yeah, James, this looks..." Rory's nose wrinkled as he tried to think of an appropriate word. "Not like that." He said rather eloquently, and James snatched it out of my hands and gently placed it on the bed. I traded amused looks with Rory.

"_I solemnly swear I'm up to no good_," James murmured, laying his wand tip against the paper, and ink spread out from where his wand tip had been to spider web across the page, creating ancient-looking, ornate designs, and, after a few moments, words: _Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, purveyors of aid to magical mischief-makers, are proud to present the Marauder's map._

"Awesome," Rory murmured, staring down at the paper. James reached down to unfold it carefully, but as he did, the paper no longer seemed to have any folding creases at all. It covered almost the entire bed when he entirely unfolded it, and I grinned, looking for Gryffindor tower. I grinned at the three dots that were practically on top of one another: _Rory Corner, James Potter, Serafina Finnigan_.

"This is really cool, James," I acknowledged, glancing up at him to grin.

"This is our way into Hogsmeade," James corrected, but grinned back before looking back down at the map. "If we just take this thing behind this tapestry right here—we can get there easily. And this cloak," James grinned, reaching under the map to pull out the cloak we'd accidentally covered up. "Is an invisibility cloak, so we can get out of the castle without being seen." I nodded, grinning even bigger.

"Perfect." I rubbed my nose, trying to think this through. "Alright, well, at eleven, let's meet at that tapestry. On Saturday, I mean." I murmured, and James nodded. "And make double sure no one sees this, James. Like, double triple sure. Because Rostov would love nothing more than to take these away and deduct like a lifetime's worth of points from Gryffindor."

"I'm not an idiot," James retorted, frowning suddenly. "And you should probably get out of here before Malcolm comes up and gets all annoying." Malcolm Jorkins was James and Rory's other roommate, a boy I saw often sitting alone in the common room and felt kind of bad for.

"All annoying?" I asked, raising my eyebrows in an invitation to explain.

"He'd tattle. We're not supposed to have girls in our dorms." Rory explained. "He's such a prat—he told on you being up here the other day to Teddy who made us swear up and down we'd never take advantage of a girl or something, almost called you up there—Malcolm made us sound all creepy and stuff." He sounded angry, and I frowned.

"Weirdo." I muttered. Aside from the fact that I trusted James, Louis and Rory (as well as Neil, their _other_ other roommate, but we weren't friends), it wasn't like any of them were quite at the age where I needed to worry about _being taken advantage of_. The guys still blushed if I hugged them too long. And I was perfectly capable of standing up for myself, in addition to that.

"Yeah." Rory agreed in irritation. James was just glowering darkly down at the map, and I rolled my eyes.

"Lighten up, Jamesie," I said, using Victoire's much-hated nickname, and James scowled at me. "Fine, fine, I'm leaving. You guys are no fun _anyway_." I said dryly, standing up, and James looked regretful instantly.

"We'll come with—anyone up for some Wizard's chess?"

---

Saturday morning, at eleven AM, I forced Edie into distracting Louis while I slid out of the Great Hall. James and Rory were already at the tapestry, James's expression flat while Rory was practically jumping up and down with excitement.

"You look like a puppy," I informed Rory as I walked up, and James smirked. Rory rolled his eyes, but didn't stop grinning, making him look slightly insane for a moment.

"Come on, this is _awesome_." He said, and I grinned back, silently agreeing. I stepped forward and James unfolded the giant cloak in his arms, shaking it out once before I stepped in closer, and he draped the massive thing over us.

And then we were invisible.

And let me tell you, being invisible is the _weirdest_ feeling, hands down. Mostly it's only obvious when you pass a mirror, or a window or something, but it's looking into a reflective surface and _knowing_ you're there, but not seeing yourself. It's actually sort of disorienting.

James, Rory and I crept silently through the passageway and into the basement of Honeydukes Candy Shop, a fifteen minute walk, and we threw off the cloak there. I shivered at the cold October air—it was only thirty degrees or so, uncommonly cold, and slipped up the stairs into my Honeydukes, trying to look casual as I smiled at a few third years James, Louis and I passed on our way out.

"Score." Rory murmured as we stepped onto the street, and I stiffened to avoid shivering. "Okay, so—Louis's present. What are we getting him?" Rory demanded, and my eyebrows rose.

"Let's all go in on one big thing." I said delightedly. "Come on—I can't think of anything and anything worth getting him will be expensive." I continued, when Rory shot me a doubtful look. James was watching me raptly, his attention peaked by _something_ I was doing, but I didn't bother with him. I was going to get Louis a birthday present today, and it would be fantastic—end of story. Also, James had been jumpier since the bludger incident: whenever we weren't with a crowd of people we knew—the common room, his dorm, the classroom, the hallways—he grew more nervous. I knew he still hadn't quite slid past the concern that someone was trying to take my life—and I couldn't blame him.

"I'll do it." Rory said, shrugging, and James nodded, glancing around. It was weird to be in this swarm of students without any first years—we earned ourselves a few peculiar looks as we stood in the middle of the frozen pathway between the shops, James's cloak and map stuffed into my over-sized bag.

"Sure." James said after a moment. "Let's get him something like a...a..." James glanced around us, before his eyes landed on a store window filled with owls in cages. He grinned suddenly. "An owl! If we all do it—I mean it'll be expensive—but he has to use Victoire's." James said after a moment, his words rushing out with the speed of a good idea, and I raised my eyebrow.

"I'll have to be a small one." Rory warned. "It takes like fifty galleons to buy a real, good one. And we've only got—what, forty five?—between us."

"Nah, I have a lot more than that." I said cheerfully, and James shot me a _look_. I grinned at him. "My dad sent the winnings he got for having me be in Gryffindor because Mum made him, and Alec's Mum has been sending me an allowance." I swallowed, my heart hurting a little bit. I hadn't talked to my parents since the bludger incident—and they hadn't been sending Wes mail either, which broke my heart a little bit. I may have been angry with my parents, but it was a long leap from being angry and being silent. And I felt bad that I was dragging Wes into it. But after my apology letter the night of the fight with Gallagher, they hadn't written me anything but a howler, so I figured the ball was in their court, now. "So what color should it be?" I asked easily, after getting an awkward look from Rory, and James's expression slid back into stony.

"Like... light brown. Like Duke, sort of." Rory decided arbitrarily, and I pursed my lips for a moment before shaking my head.

"But I think a dark owl suits him..." I murmured as we walked into the store.

"Sera?" I heard my brother's voice, and I froze dead, hesitating before I turned around, a guilty smile on my face.

"Hi Wes." I said slowly, and James and Rory stared at my brother in terror. Wes was standing with his friends, Devon and Arthur, and two girls, Rena and Ivy, all from fourth year. All of Wes's friends were shooting us sympathetic smiles: Wes just looked pissed off. "What's up?" I tried to keep my tone light and friendly, but Wes's intensely angry look silenced me.

"How the hell did you get past Longbottom?" He demanded, annoyed and crossing his arms over his chest. I swallowed, shaking my head once and remaining silent. "Sera, come on!" Wes groaned, walking closer to me, grabbing my arm and dragging me away from my friends by a few feet, enough that we were out of earshot. "Mom will legitimately kill you." He said quietly.

"She'd have to be talking to me to do that." I responded grimly. "Besides, it's not like she'll find out. And...Look, Wes, I swear, it's totally innocent. We're getting Louis a birthday present." Wes stared at me for a moment, looking caught between amusement and irritation, before a small smile flickered on his face.

"You're insane." He informed me. "You're risking being caught out here—you, a first year, who's already gotten in trouble and nearly gotten yourself killed—because you want to get your new best friend a _birthday_ present." He grinned, chuckling, and I shoved him.

"Shut up. It wasn't like I had much of an option. And James and Rory needed something too, so it just worked out." I protested, shoving his shoulder. "By the way, you're gaining older brother points for not flipping out." I added after a second, and Wes's grin dropped.

"Serafina," He said seriously, running a hand through his hair and looking genuinely concerned for a moment. "You're turning into a full-time job, okay? And you're my sister and I'm here for you and shit, but I don't want to be your babysitter. If you get in trouble, I'm genetically obligated to go help you out, but that should be, at most, once or twice a school year. It's already been a bunch of times." He frowned at me. "And let's not forget that either someone's trying to kill you or you're just the most accident prone kid on the planet, okay? Go back to the castle. Tell me what you want for Louis, I'll buy it for you." I considered this idea—but I wanted to get something good for Louis. And I couldn't go back to my friends with my tail between my legs saying I had to go back up to the castle because Wes told me to. I had some pride.

"Nah, I wanna choose it. We won't be long, Wes, I swear it—we just want a present and some candy and we'll go right back." I said after a moment, trying to make the idea sound as appealing as possible.

"Sera." He said flatly, shaking his head once. "No. Go back to the castle."

"Stop, Wes." I scowled at him. "I'm not gonna get caught, anyway. Besides, if I do, it's not like we're doing anything sinister. And that'll go a long way with the teachers." Wes glowered down at me, his message loud and clear. "You can't make me." I finally said, hating that I sounded like a toddler. Wes didn't say anything and we scowled at each other for a few moments before he turned away. I smothered a smirk as I walked back to Rory and James.

"What the..." James murmured, and I shook my head, walking straight into the store.

"Don't ask, just keep walking." I murmured to him as they followed me in, and I waited until Wes and his friends had moved past the window, Wes sulking, before grinning at Rory and James. "He tried to talk me back to the castle." I said.

"You'd think he'd know better than anyone you were the stubbornest girl on the planet." Rory said, shaking his head mockingly as we browsed the smelly store. I tried not to wince as I stepped on owl droppings.

"I know, right?" I asked flatly. "And I told you not to ask because I know this won't last very long, so let's choose an owl and get on with it."

Twenty minutes later James, Rory and I had bought an owl and were halfway up to the shrieking shack. Rory had dared me that I was too much of a scaredy cat to go near it, and then, of course, I'd had to prove that I was perfectly happy to walk near it.

We were pretty alone in the woods—Hogsmeade was a big couples thing, and the fact of it was, no one really wanted to see the Shrieking Shack when they were on a date. I was a little bit creeped out—it was a cold day, and aside from that, it was a _dark_ day: the clouds had covered the sun completely and were dark gray.

"Haha, you're scared." Rory teased under his breath, and I smirked.

"If I'm scared," I said loudly. "Why are _you_ the one whispering?" James grinned lightly at me and I grinned back, stepping closer to the fence. I tripped for a moment and James leaned forward to catch my arm—and a scarlet colored spell slammed past us and into the fence.

I twisted around, my nearly-numb fingers already grappling with my many pockets to remember which one I put my wand in. There were men behind us—seven of them, emerging from the trees, and my heart pounded in my chest. They were dressed in dark cloaks, their hoods up but without masks, so I immediately ruled out death eaters.

Another spell slammed out from one of them and I tugged James and Rory down to the ground as I dropped to my knees myself, trying desperately not to panic as I glanced around: you could see the main street of Hogsmeade, on one side of the property of the Shrieking Shack, but it was really far—I doubted anyone could hear us.

"_Sectusempra,"_ One of the men murmured solemnly.

"_Protego_!" Rory cried desperately, and the spells collided midair as all three of us struggled to stand up. "Oh, hell—bloody hell." He mumbled unhappily, shooting a wild look at me, and James stepped protectively in front of me, and I laid a hand on his shoulder, trying to move around him.

"Hiding behind Mr. Potter, Miss FInnigan?" One of the men asked me, stepping forward with a smirk. He knew James's name—he probably knew mine, and Rory's too. I fiddled with my wand, trying to remember a spell—any spell—that would send a message, or at least make a big enough commotion that someone would notice we were in trouble. "That doesn't seem very brave. Maybe you don't belong in Gryffindor." He chuckled, and I narrowed my eyes, stepping out from behind James. I couldn't duel with these guys—I knew that. So I had to get talking. Immediately. "Especially considering our intent--to put your friends in danger over your own well-being: well that's not very Gryffindor at all."

"Yeah, because you're a good example of bravery. Attacking three kids." I taunted, backing James and Rory up to the fence. We had to get out of here.

"Sera, not now," James whispered in my ear, gripping my arm. "They're here for you, they've gotta be. You have to stay behind me, okay?" He whispered, and I shook my head once.

"Aww," The same man said mockingly. "Somebody's got a little crush on a girl..." James blushed scarlet and scowled angrily at the man, his eyes flashing, while I glanced up at James, surprised. Rory's nervous gaze flicked to me and I felt my own breath begin to come faster. I was freaking out. "Well, no matter, that'll be resolved quickly."

"_Protego!_" Rory shouted at the men, and I grabbed James and Rory's hands and shoved them in front of me, sprinting into the forest behind the men. I screamed as curses whizzed past us, and James pulled me in front of him, pushing me forward as we stumbled through the forest--and it was getting darker, not because it was night, but because the top of the trees were getting thicker. A spell grazed Rory's arm, and I heard him cry out, slipping myself between him and the attackers as we sprinted.

"Hell, hell, hell." James muttered as a spell smacked into my shoulder, and I screamed as I went down. James stopped beside me and looked panicked as I scrambled to my feet.

"Keep going!" I told him, and Rory stopped a few feet up, realizing we'd stopped. James pulled me behind a tree and Rory slipped behind one a little further a head as I caught my breath, and he was pulling off his sweatshirt, balling it up and pressing it to my back.

"Your shoulder's a mess." He murmured to me.

"We have bigger issues." I reminded him. James hesitated before nodding, and he pointed his wand straight up.

"_Relashio_." He murmured, and sparks flew from his wand, effectively shooting into the sky--and setting the trees above us on fire.

Holy _Jesus_.

"James!" I shouted frantically as I heard crackling above us, and the men behind us catching up. "What--" I shut myself up long enough to grab his wrist and pull him along after me. I waved Rory along and we went deeper and deeper into the forest. "You set the forest _on fire_." I shouted at James, stopping for a moment, and Rory stared at him, but grabbed my arm to drag me along before I began to move again.

"What the hell, Potter?" He demanded, and James just scowled at both of us, continuing to run. My shoulder was pounding and my stomach was ready to turn itself inside out with nervousness, but Rory's arm was hurt and he'd kept running, so I wasn't going to give up before him.

We kept running for a few minutes before I was officially too out of breath to keep moving, and we slowed first to a jog, then to a complete stop, listening carefully to make sure we couldn't hear anyone. We couldn't, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. These men were obviously magical, and there were spells to make us not hear anything.

"Where _are_ we?" Rory asked me as he gasped for breath, and I shook my head, trying to catch my breath myself. I grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm a bit, getting a full view of the gash there: I winced. It was red and raw, and bleeding quite a bit, but didn't look that deep--and he could still move his arm. All of this was good news.

"Jeez." I murmured. This was a problem. We couldn't force Rory to run if he was hurt. "Okay, can we contact anyone or something?" I asked softly, looking back at James, who shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know any spells like that..." I continued apologetically.

"The fire'll catch someone's attention and I'm pretty sure your brother must have seen us head toward the shrieking shack." James said noncommittally, and I raised my eyebrows. "Also someone'll notice we're missing by dinner." He shrugged, and I raised my eyebrows.

"Wes probably won't notice till tomorrow morning." I told him. "And maybe not then. It's not like we do anything together. Louis will notice, when you're not at dinner, though." I shrugged. "He won't know where we are, though."

"Professor Longbottom will make an announcement." Rory murmured. "Wes'll tell my brother, probably. And they'll say something once they realize we never got back."

"So we just have to wait." I murmured. "And hope those prats don't find us before Hogwarts does.

"What if they do find us?" Rory demanded, sounding scared, and I swallowed. "I mean, we're miserable fighters. We're just reading the textbook in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and I'm not even doing that well in the class anyway."

"We'll run if they come back." I said unsurely, and then I turned my back to Rory and he gasped.

"Sera--your shoulder is _really_ bad." He murmured. I shrugged nervously, sliding away from both the boys, but James looked worried.

"Wish I could see it." I said in irritation as I tried to twist to see it, earning myself a twinge of pain. I winced and James's concern increased ten-fold as he took a few steps closer from where he'd been standing. I was wavering, a little, I realized, and I felt sort of tingly.

"Sit down, Ser." He said softly, and I raised my eyebrows: he didn't usually show emotion, much less towards me. "Come on. If you pass out that's not gonna help anyone."

"Fine, but I'm not gonna pass out." I murmured, sitting cross-legged on the ground, then curling up against the tree at my back, and James sat beside me, and I felt a light pressure on my back. He was pressing his sweatshirt to my back, and Rory had his hand clamped over his cut, looking a little nauseous. I closed my eyes, leaning back into James, who sighed softly.

"Deep breaths, Ser." James reminded me softly. "Come on, don't pass out." He sounded pleading.

"My shoulder hurts." I told James. "Ow."

"Sera, I'm being serious." James retorted, suddenly sounding urgent. "Rory--dammit, help!" James sounded absolutely panicked but I couldn't really remember why, or what I was supposed to do about it. I still felt like I was spinning, even though my eyes were closed. Rory evidently wasn't helping, because then James sort of snapped. "_CORNER_!" James roared.

"Sera, don't fall asleep." Rory ordered finally, sounding tired. "James'll have a panic attack." I opened my eyes to squint at Rory. "Hey. Stay awake." He told me, and I shook my head sleepily.

"Tell James to take a breather." I mumbled sleepily, and James groaned behind me.

"Sera!" He hissed.

"James!" I mocked softly, and he relaxed a little.

"Okay, Sera." He said after a minute. "I'm gonna make you stand, if you don't start talking to me." But I was already out cold.


	8. We Build, Then We Break

Well guys, this is OUTRAGEOUSLY late. and I am sorry for that. and feel immensely guilty. but a few of some extremely nice reviews asking me to continue forced me to actually sit and write, and thank you so much to those reviewers, you guys are the best. also, hats off to skittles31, who pretty much confirmed my thoughts on authors who abandon stories half-way through. that they're lame.

so thankss. :D and i won't do it again.

xoxo

Care

* * *

My consciousness began to ebb back after a while, giving me moments of lucidity that, instead of somehow making me feel more awake, just further confused me. Someone was talking, then someone was holding my hand—and that stayed. Chatter and shouting and then the light weight of the Invisibility Cloak all passed before I managed to summon enough energy to have an actual thought.

Cold.

I was freezing. It was, after all, October in Scotland. It got cold here, fast. I opened my eyes, realizing my hand was still in someone's—James's, it dawned on me, after a moment, and Rory glanced at me sharply from his spot by my knees. "You're awake!" He said, sounding pleased, and I released James's hand to rub my face with my hands, yawning a little. "Merlin, you were out for like five hours, Ser." He told me, and I rolled my shoulders, glancing around. James was asleep, his head against my shoulder, the side of his face covered with blood.

"His face!" I cried softly, jumping to my knees, and the world spun, making me fall back and brace myself with my hands. I closed my eyes and carefully shifted my weight so I could lift my hands to cover my eyes, pressing on them like I sometimes did when I had a headache. I felt someone's hand on my back, and heard James's voice, suddenly.

"Sera?" He asked, his voice thick with sleep, and I uncovered my eyes to peek at him sideways. He seemed obviously exhausted, but also sort of pleased and relieved--how long had I been out to startle a reaction like this out of the boys? "What's wrong?"

"Dizzy." I admitted tightly, recovering my eyes when James began to spin too—the darkness that came when I closed my eyes behind my hands couldn't spin, but the sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach didn't go away. "It's okay though."

"Should you be lying down?" Rory asked doubtfully.

"Nah, I'm finally up—I might as well stay this way." I told them, uncovering my eyes and looking up, forcing a smile. Then I realized why I'd jumped to my knees in the first place: James had blood all over the left side of his face. "What happened?" I asked quietly.

"Those guys came back when you were out." Rory told me, when James didn't respond. James was just studying my gaze seriously, and I just met his gaze back, until his face turned scarlet (or what of it wasn't covered in blood) and he swallowed, looking away. "It's really just a scratch though—_really_!" He protested when I shot him a skeptical look.

"Did they just get bored and ditch?" I asked sarcastically, and Rory glanced at James, who had turned back to the invisibility cloak and was beginning to fold it up. Stupid emotionally immature boys. James had something on his mind—I knew that much. But I didn't possess the mental prowess at this point, to engage him on it.

"I led 'em off, then ran away," Rory said quietly. "James stayed here with you, one of 'em came around and caught the side of James's face." I glanced, concerned, at James, who shrugged his shoulders, looking stony faced again.

"We need to get out of here." I murmured after a moment, glancing at the boys. I waved my wand in the air, murmuring the familiar spell, and numbers carved themselves into the air in front of me. 5:43. We were supposed to have been back at Hogwarts two hours ago—or at least the kids allowed to go to Hogsmeade were supposed to have been. Dinner didn't start until 6:30, but I knew that Wes would look for me before hand. All the emotional stunting in the world couldn't beat out of him his need to check on his little sister. And Louis was probably pissed at us for disappearing. And Teddy would be made we'd missed the four o'clock practice, which ended at six. Wes would notice at practice, too.

"And here I thought we were having a beautiful tea party out here in the forbidden forest." James shot out, and I snorted in sarcastic laughter, smiling a little at his attempt at humor—the truth of it was, though, was that James wasn't trying to be funny. He was just a little too bitter about being stuck out here.

"Wait, this is the forbidden forest?" I demanded, as Rory threw a frantic look at the sky, as if to ask God for assistance. James just nodded wordlessly. "What the…Bloody Hell, James, Rore, we're gonna get killed by something! A freaking unicorn or some unnamed insect or something else!" I cried, and Rory ran a hand down his face.

"Well, yes, but considering that you've been unconscious for the last few hours and we had no guarantee you were going to wake up, James and I weren't exactly in a position to work our way through the forest." Rory berated me, and I fell silent, remorse filling me. I felt bad, suddenly for the guys. How would I have reacted were I them—after the panic of our run from those men, to have one of them sit down then pass out? I would have had a veritable anxiety attack.

"Okay, you're right." I acknowledged after a few moments. "But now that I'm up, we should—" I stopped. "Do we still have the marauder's map?" I asked suddenly.

"Dropped it." James murmured sullenly. "Where they attacked us—none of 'em picked it up, though." I rubbed the back of my neck.

"Shit." I sighed. "Okay, well, I guess… We just start walking, right?" I winced as James turned the bloody side of his face towards me. "And pray we run into like a river or something. Your face looks…" I swallowed against the urge to vomit at the blood all over James's mangled face. "Not great."

"Thanks." James said dryly, standing, and he reached out a hand to me: I used the arm attached to my good shoulder to take the hand up, and I stood up cautiously. The world spun, but not as much as it had been before, and Rory rose beside me.

"Now, now, don't lie to your friends, Ser." Rory threw in, grinning. He turned to James, a faux-charming smile on his face. "Your face looks butt-ugly, like always." Rore told him sweetly, and I giggled a little as James shoved Rory back a few steps.

"Shove off," James ordered, obviously not finding it funny, and walking off between Rory and me. I rolled my eyes but fell into steps with him, glad to be doing _something_, even if it might just end up with us back in Hogsmeade.

That would be better than us not having any idea where we were.

An hour later, we were still lost as hell.

It was frustrating, really, not having any idea where you're going. And not having any idea how far you'd come. Because in a forest, trees still look like trees, no matter the fact that you must have passed different trees a few minutes ago even though they look the same as the current ones. Trees are just trees.

"I'm hungry." James volunteered the first words we'd said in twenty minutes, and I glared at him. My patience with the apparently never ending forest was wearing thin.

"Welcome to the club, stupid. We haven't eaten since breakfast." I rolled my eyes.

"Can we," Rory hesitated, blushing a little as James and I looked at him sharply. "I dunno, scavenge for food?" He obviously felt stupid, and I blinked.

"Uh." James contributed helpfully. He glanced at me, Rory too, and I just looked back at them, at a loss for why they assumed that I was the right person for this job.

"Why are you looking at me?" I demanded. "I don't _scavenge_ for food on any kind of regular basis." I was sort of offended that they were looking at me: my parents might not have been war heroes, but we certainly had enough money to get along.

Rory grinned ruefully at me. "Sorry, just assumed one of us had to have the answer, and we all know that James is dumb as soup."

"_Freeze_!" A voice from the shadows in the trees around us shouted, and freeze we did: adrenaline was dumped into my system, and I closed my eyes, willing myself not to cry. I couldn't do this, not again—I was eleven years old, and I wasn't Harry freaking Potter. I couldn't save the world on a whim, I couldn't have my life and the lives of my friends threatened in the same day without having an actual breakdown.

I opened my eyes again and forced myself to regulate my breathing, and two centaurs came out of the forest behind James and Rory, crossbows pointed at my friends, and I met their gazes. "Names, first years." One of them ordered sharply.

"Roran Corner." Rory murmured.

"James Potter." James said hoarsely, and I exhaled heavily.

"Serafina Finnigan." I said quietly, and the centaurs immediately readjusted, their crossbows aiming at me.

"James Potter, you are the son of Harry Potter?" One asked, and James rolled his eyes, and I had to resist the urge to smirk. James despised nothing more than having people ask him that. It wasn't like there were boatloads of Potters floating around the wizarding world.

"Yes." James responded evenly, and I tried not to shudder. He couldn't see the centaurs—he couldn't see they were armed, or aiming at me and me alone.

"And Serafina Finnigan." The same one said, glaring at me. "You are the daughter of Seamus Finnigan and the granddaughter of Saraid Finnigan?" I swallowed. My grandmother was a piece of work, as my father described her, and had been a higher up at the ministry while Voldemort was in power. I didn't know that much about her politics other than the fact that she'd not been so opposed to having Voldemort take over our world and kill James's father. To be fair, though, the way Dad described it, she was more frightened for her son at Hogwarts than she was feeling malice towards Harry Potter. Still. Cowardice was no excuse.

"Yes." I murmured, and the centaur's eyes narrowed.

"Do you share your grandmother's political views?" He asked me dangerously, stepping past James and revealing the weapon trained on me. I sighed.

"No sir." I whispered, and James and Rory suddenly looked frantic, upon realizing that I was about to be killed, probably. The centaur's crossbow was now level with my heart, and I closed my eyes, panic taking over.

"We cannot trust her, Livius." The centaur behind James and Rory warned the centaur before me, who I assumed was Livius. "She is Saraid's granddaughter." I felt the tears I'd been resisting—one grew in my eye and dripped down my face, and I opened my eyes to face my potential murderer.

"Saraid is my grandmother, not me." I said finally, my voice hoarse. "My father hasn't spoken to her since long before I was born, I've never even met her." The centaur measured my words, his eyes narrowed.

"She is at least traveling companions with James Potter." Livius offered, turning back to the one behind James and Louis. "Worth at least taking back to our home to discuss a ransom deal."

"If she comes to our home she cannot come out." The other centaur reminded Livius, and I felt my stomach turn over as I looked at James, my eyes wide with my panic. How had this possibly started out as a birthday present buying trip and ended as what was looking like my death sentence? Because that was what this was looking like. "And taking Harry Potter's son is an impossibility that could end catastrophically."

His eyes turned to me, glinting dangerously. "You. Saraid's granddaughter. Answer me this: what are you doing in my forest?" He asked me.

"We were attacked," I told him in a raspy voice. "Chased into the forest. A few hours ago, and then I passed out and we were over there, I think." I gestured in the general direction we'd come from. "We're trying to get back to Hogwarts."

"We'll escort you back, then," He said seriously. "And if the Headmistress demands it, we'll release you." I nodded shakily, and then I looked at James, stumbling towards him, my panic overtaking me. I wrapped my arms around him and sobbed once, pressing my face into his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around me.

"Oh, Merlin." I sobbed, my shoulders shaking. "Too many times today."

"Shh," James murmured, rubbing my back. "It's okay." His voice was soft and gentle, and I took several shaky breaths. "Sh."

"Holy…" Rory murmured beside me. "Hey, Ser, you're okay, Patil won't let 'em take you." Rory reassured me, and I lifted my face from James's shoulder, turning my head to look at my friend, and James released me cautiously, watching my face with rapt attention. I also realized that the centaurs looked bemused.

"Saraid's granddaughter, come." One of the centaurs ordered imperiously, grabbing my arm and jerking me forward. Livius lifted James and Rory onto his back, and I trotted awkwardly to keep up, branches scraping my face. I winced, and the centaur shot me a withering look, my heart racing.

Thirty minutes later, we stumbled onto the grounds of Hogwarts, out of the trees, and up the hill behind Hogwarts. There was, somehow, a welcome party assembled there—the centaurs had sent word ahead without us noticing, I assumed, because the faculty were assembled, and I could see most of the school, a hundred feet back or so from the teachers. They were being pushed backwards by Professor Longbottom and Professor Picoult, but it wasn't helping.

"Livius, Cirulus," Patil said easily, stepping forward, and Livius helped James and Rory down. They didn't move though—I assumed they wouldn't until the centaurs expressly told us we could. "I understand you have an interest in keeping Saraid Finnigan's granddaughter." She said it calmly, but I could sense the tension in the crowd. "But I'm afraid that I can't allow that."

"We don't answer to you." Cirulus said petulantly, sounding like a child and dragging me back a few inches. "James Potter, Roran Corner, you may go back to your schoolmates." He said dismissively, and James turned to look at me—I summoned what I could of a smile and nodded. James took a few hesitant steps towards the teachers, helping Rory limp up the hill, and I tried to remember when that injury had occurred. I was so past the epitome of confused, at this point, though.

The teachers grabbed James and Rory instantly, swallowing them into the crowd, but I saw James glance back a hundred times. There was complete silence for a few moments before Cirulus looked back down at me.

"She is a child," Patil reinforced.

"The Battle of Hogwarts happened when a child defeated the darkest wizard of our time." Cirulus said sharply. "History has a tendency of underestimating children. They are, after all, the future." His gaze had not moved from me, yet, and I just stared back at him. I was done crying.

"You did not target her brother, her father—leave her be, Cirulus." The headmistress said.

"Her father and brother were not so stupid as to wander around the Forbidden Forest." Cirulus said demurely, finally looking away. "But you may have her." I was jerked forward, and I stumbled up the hill—Longbottom came down halfway to help me, getting me as far from the centaurs as fast as possible. He picked me up when my left leg gave out, and I coughed.

"Holy Merlin, Serafina." He murmured as he entered the swarm of faculty and students: Patil, Donnelly, Longbottom, Picoult, Pomfrey, Lovegood, James, Rory and I parted the crowd easily, the teachers rushing us into the hospital wing. Longbottom placed me on a cot and Donnelly placed Rory on a cot as well—James, the only one of us who could walk, sank down on the cot beside Rory's, who was next to me.

"What the hell happened?" Patil demanded as she watched, standing at the edge of my bed while Pomfrey tutted over my knee. I'd tripped on the way back and Cirulus had kept pulling my arm—as it was, I'd been injured.

"We snuck out to Hogsmeade." James volunteered, and I exhaled heavily, but he shot me a look—what was there to do? "We were buying Louis a birthday present, and we went up to the Shrieking Shack…" James glanced at Rory, who looked at me, and I rolled my eyes. Stupid boys. Guess I was continuing this tale.

"These guys attacked us—I guess they were after me?" I glanced at James for confirmation, and he nodded. "And we ran and ran and… we just got lost."

"Guys?" Longbottom echoed. We all three looked up at him. How did this morning feel so long ago? "You realize you were just brought back by centaurs…"

"First some guys attacked us." Rory confirmed. "Then Sera passed out—they got her shoulder, and she woke up at five forty five-ish, and we had no idea where we were so we started walking. And then those centaurs spotted us and they were," Rory swallowed, his face going pale. "They almost killed Sera. Again." I looked away. "Who _is_ your grandmother?"

"Saraid MacBride Finnigan, she was part of the Magical Creature Relations at the Ministry of Magic and she was apparently… like a Voldemort supporter or something, but Dad says she was just scared." I murmured, looking up at Rore. "I guess she must have been pretty bad about relating to the centaurs, because they seemed pretty damned pissed." I rubbed my face, and when I removed my hands, Madame Pomfrey was putting her hand on my back, bending me forward to look at my shoulder.

"Neville, someone sectusempra'd her." Pomfrey murmured, looking up darkly, and I glanced up at the teachers. "Sweetheart, did you recognize any of the men? Did they say anything?" She asked me hurriedly, and I shook my head for the first question.

"I've never seen them before, but they knew my name, and James's. And they knew what house I was in." I thought about it for a moment, ignoring the stinging feeling in my shoulder that I assumed was a result of something she was doing. "They mentioned something… about their intent? James was standing in front of me, and they said I was hiding, which wasn't very brave, considering their intent. How I was putting my well-being over my friends'—but I wasn't, I swear it." I interrupted myself.

"No, no, we believe you." Longbottom said distractedly, and I glanced up at him—he looked deeply troubled.

"Go grab me some gauze, won't you Parvati? Thank you." Madame Pomfrey said, and Headmistress Patil grabbed the gauze and handed some to the nurse. Madame Pomfrey closed the curtain around us, and I raised my eyebrows, straightening up a bit. "I'm going to wrap this, sweetheart, it'll take quite a while to heal, that's the way the curse works." She smiled at me as she effectively made everyone else invisible. "But in order to do that I'll need you to remove your shirt." I blushed, but nodded, thankful, suddenly for the sports bra I was wearing despite the lack of need for it. I pulled my t-shirt off carefully, wincing as it pulled at my wound, and she pulled my arm out so it was straight out at my side. My face twisted into a grimace and she glanced at me sympathetically, but busily got to wrapping my shoulder and then twisting the gauze down my upper arm. She magically stuck the end of the gauze to another part, where it weaved itself in, and then opened a drawer in the bedside table to pull out a sling. "Put your shirt back on, sweetheart," She said softly, and I nodded hurriedly: it took me a moment longer than usual, but in thirty seconds my shirt was on and I was positioning my arm in the sling while she moved the curtain back. "Now, you won't be able to play quidditch for a few weeks—I'd say two or three, probably."

"What?" I moaned, turning to stare at James, who looked apologetic. "No, Teddy'll kill me."

"I feel like my god-brother might be more concerned that you're injured than the effect it'll have on his quidditch team." James volunteered.

"Not after the last game against Syltherin." I murmured. "And not after those stupid bludgers attacked me—what if he thinks I'm cursed and reinstates my probation?" My eyes widened. "Can he do that?" James shrugged.

"I love that you were attacked and you're more worried about quidditch than who attacked you." Rory said, grinning at me, and I grinned a little back.

"Miss Finnigan, Mr. Potter, Mr. Corner—your various relatives seem to be breaking down the door." Professor Longbottom noted mildly, looking at the door, and I leaned forward. "I include Alec Thomas in that count, by the way, Miss Finnigan."

"He's as good as family." I agreed. "Can you let them in?" I asked, and Longbottom looked at Pomfrey, who looked flustered as she wrapped Rory's arm in gauze. "Please?" I threw in for good measure.

"Alright, but only if they're quiet." Pomfrey agreed, moving onto James as she spoke. "Oh, Lord, Potter, what did you _do_ to your face?" She demanded as she saw the bloody side of James's face.

"I told you it looked bad." I shot at James.

"Shut up." He ordered, but there was no malice in his voice as people spilled in the door. Louis beat everyone but sprinting to me and hugging me carefully, taking note of my injury: I hugged him back, a grin on my face.

"You are _so_ stupid." He whispered to me, and I chuckled softly. "You went and got yourself bloodied to buy me a freaking birthday present?!" He sounded panicked, and I grinned at him, tilting my head to the side.

"It's the first birthday I get to celebrate with you!" I protested. "You're one of my best friends—what was I supposed to do? Get Wes to pick you up some candy?" I frowned, shaking my head as Louis nodded emphatically, his eyes wide. "No! It had to be a good present."

"Weasley, it's family only." Alec ordered from behind Louis, and Wes came up behind Alec, effectively scaring the living daylights out of Louis. Louis scrambled out of the way, and I scowled at Alec, who sat at the end of my cot, his frowning gaze on me, while Wes just swept me up in a giant hug. I hugged him lightly, making sure to protect my shoulder as I did. Wes pulled away and I realized, startled, that his eyes were red-rimmed.

"Were you crying?" I asked softly, and he scowled darkly at me.

"My little sister went missing for a few hours and turned up in the clutches of some jackass centaur with blood all over her and her friends." He didn't even bother denying it, his eyes narrowed, his arm still protectively around my shoulders. For all that I was being hunted and that sucked, I couldn't help but notice that, without our parents there, Wes and I had stopped being competitors and were more like friends. And I sort of loved it. "So I have a right to be a little, Oh, I don't know--_concerned_." He paused. "But I didn't cry. I don't cry."

"Kay." I said softly, and sighed, glancing at my shoulder.

"So... someone wrecked your shoulder, huh?" He asked me. "Do I need to beat up a centaur? Because I feel like that might be difficult, consider they have arms in addition to four legs. A little bit of a disadvantage for me..." I grinned up at him.

"Nah, this was some other guys." My smile faded as Wes's did, and I looked over at Rory at the same time he looked over at me, both of our older brothers looking vaguely displeased. I pursed my lips, frowning a little, and Rory shrugged uncomfortably, his way of begging me to somehow tell his brother for him, but I shook my head once, a small smirk on his face. We were friends, but I had a big brother of my own to give an explanation to. "Wait, Wes--why do the centaurs hate Dad's Mum?" I asked, turning back to my brother, and he winced as he looked down at my face.

"I'm not exactly sure, but plan on asking Dad and then berating him for not talking to us recently." Wes told me, and I blushed, ducking my head. "Alec's Mum told me you weren't feeling too good about them acting like two-year-olds." I sighed, but said nothing, a little irritated with Monica. He gave my good shoulder a little squeeze and looked up at Alec. "Louis also mentioned that you'd overheard the teachers talking about how someone was targeting you specifically," I closed my eyes, massaging them with my unbound up hand. "Gotta tell me these things, sis." Wes's voice and subject were surprisingly serious, and I just leaned against him, closing my eyes tiredly: I was suddenly exhausted.

"Are Mum and Dad coming?" I asked softly: the school would have called them the moment their kid went missing. My eyes were closed though, whatever the answer, I was still going to go to sleep.

"Um. Well." My eyes shot open, and I turned flat out to face Wes. My question had been meant as rhetorical: what kind of parents didn't show up when their kid went missing and then turned up having been attacked? "I know." Wes said darkly. "They're majorly in for it, Dean's pissed and Monica's already out for blood." I swallowed, blinking. "They're not responding to letters--I s'pose there's a chance they're being intercepted, but I can't imagine why. Before you came to hogwarts, all of my letters home were about my quidditch captain being mean or my good grade in transfiguration." I sighed, trying not to glance jealously at James and Rory. James's mother was sitting on the edge of his bed, with James's father hugging him, hard, and Rory's father (his only parent) was ruffling his hair, looking endlessly relieved. They had tight-knit families. I got a screwy but protective older brother and Alec, when we weren't arguing.

"Have your parents really not talked to you in weeks?" Alec asked me quietly, and I nodded, my expression clearing easily: I could fake being okay with it. Really, though? I was beginning to develop the inferiority complex of the century. "That sucks."

"Since Gallagher and James got in that fight." I murmured, and Alec nodded. I looked at him for a moment before I sat on my knees on the cot and hugged him: he hugged me back, tightly, and I bit my lip. Poor Alec seemed to really, really hate whenever I got into these scrapes.

I pulled away after a moment to spot James's parents looking over at me, and I smiled a little at them. They started towards me, and James jumped to his feet, following them hastily, looking nervous.

James's parents were famous--his father being the boy-who-lived, his mother being celebutante and somehow the Girl Who Helped. Harry had black hair and wore glasses, his lightning bolt scar faded on his forehead. Ginny Potter's scarlet hair was perfectly brushed out and her blue eyes were watching me sharply--she was that kind of mother, as I understood it.

"Hi, I'm Mrs. Potter, James has told us _so much_ about you," She gushed after a moment, her eyes softening and a smile growing on her face, and I grinned as she sat down on the edge of the bed that Alec had freed up: Al had moved to sit beside me, and Wes in the chair beside my bed.

James blushed hastily, throwing his dad a pleading look, but his father just laughed quietly. "Hi, Serafina, right?" He asked me, and I nodded. "I'm Harry Potter, James's father," He threw in unnecessarily, and grinned a little up at him, nodding as I shook the hand he proffered. "I've heard a lot about you from James." He paused, glancing at Wes and Alec before looking back at me. "You're... Seamus's daughter?" He tried tentatively, and I nodded.

"Yes sir." I glanced at Wes. "And this my brother, Wes, and our friend Alec Thomas, he's like part of the family." I elaborated, pointing them out, and Mr. Potter nodded good naturedly.

"Where are your parents? I haven't seen them in a while," He said to me, glancing around, and I blushed, looking down at my blankets. Wes, the best big brother ever who deserved a word, took over

"Mum and Dad aren't here today..." He said slowly, glancing down at me. "They, um, didn't come up to the castle." Mr. Potter raised his eyebrows, but Mrs. Potter took this in stride, and I felt a surge of affection for James's mother.

"So what happened to your arm, sweetheart?" She asked me, and Professor Longbottom took the opportunity to come up to the edge of my bed, his solemn gaze on the Potters.

"She was sectusempra'd, from behind." Longbottom murmured, and I swallowed as both Mr. and Mrs. Potter turned to stare at him. Wes stiffened beside me, a protective arm sliding around my shoulders, and Alec's face went from irritated to exhausted and frightened. "These men--whoever they are--wanted Sera. All of their injuries were sustained in protecting her, or in having a spell meant for her hit them." My eyes widened, glancing over at Rory, who shrugged, nodding a little.

"Sorry," I whispered, scandalized, and James squeezed past his parents, reappearing suddenly and brandishing a pack of colored quills that most kids just used for coloring.

"We've already discussed this, you didn't hurt us." Rory told me from the next bed over, and I blushed, feeling frazzled even as Louis reappeared as well, sitting on the end of my bed, grinning hugely. "Those idiots hurt us and then those centaurs hurt you. Not that anyone'll tell me _why_, but whatever." Rory's voice was cheerful and factual, and I grinned at him, giggling as James went to work drawing on my sling.

"Um. Potter." Wes said slowly, standing up on my left side and looking down at the boy half-kneeling in front of me, drawing on my sling. "What're you doing?"

"Muggle kids write on their friends' casts." James said slowly as he began to draw something. "Wizard kids don't have casts. But they do have slings, evidently. I..." He grinned up at me, and I grinned back, feeling a weird, tingly feeling in my chest. James could be super sweet sometimes--and those sometimes were worth holding out through the cranky and immature parts for. He was just too super sweet. "Am signing hers. Or drawing on it. Whatever."

"I call next." Louis shot out, grinning competitively, but I saw how nervous he was when Alec turned a piercing glare at him: I forced a cough, knowing it would drag my brother's and godbrother's gazes away from the boys.

"Hey, I want next." Rory demanded from the next bed over.

"Can you even move your writing arm?" I demanded, raising my eyebrows, and Rory hesitated, then shrugged.

"Irrelevant." He decided arbitrarily. I saw Rory's dad grin at Harry, and Rory's brother snorted, shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck, but grinning outrageously.

"Sorry, I win." Louis told him, and Rory stuck his tongue out at him, crossing his arms across his chest (as much as he could, anyway, sicne he did have a giant gauze wrapping that went from mid-upper arm to mid-forearm. I glanced down at the message James had just finished on my arm. He'd since started in on a seriously detailed illustration, but I thought the message was way too cute to handle.

"Aww, thanks Jamesie." I said, fighting a smile, and he blushed but said nothing. I tried not to notice how Wes and Alec were scowling at James, or how the adults were watching us with those creepy smiles they sometimes got that said they had something to say to each other but didn't want to say it in front of us. I just wanted to live in the moment, for now--with James, and Louis, and Rore. Because then things seemed to be so, so much better.

And then I didn't have to consider that I had a bunch of people willing to kill me.


	9. Such Great Heights

Turns out, being the first kids to disappear off Hogwarts grounds _ever_ gets you some people looking at you funny.

And I only discovered this as I walked into the Great Hall the next morning, my arm and shoulder bound up to all high heaven, and my robes on as best as I could get them on over my stupid bandage. It was a pain in the butt to change without the use of your shoulder, let me tell you.

Anyway, so I walked into the Great Hall, with James, who woke up late like me, because we always do that, and almost the entire hall went silent and _stared_ at us while we walked down between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables and then sat next to Louis. I ducked my head to study the empty plate in front of me, letting my hair cover my face, and I noticed in the corners of my vision that Wes and Teddy were looking at me from down the table, seeming nervous. Alec was watching me too, wincing in sympathy. I glanced up at them and smiled tightly, before my gaze flicked to James. He was gaping at the paper that Louis was holding up, silently, his face paler than usual, and when I saw the headline, I felt my stomach drop too.

POTTER BOY GOES MISSING WITH FRIENDS FROM "SAFE" SCHOOL, FOUND HOURS LATER. A picture of James, a picture of Rory, and a picture of me were waving from the front cover, a big grin on all of our faces as we waved up from the front of the daily prophet, mindless that this photo would ever be used as a Missing Childrens Poster picture. "Shit." I murmured, the ache in my arm increasing with my stress, and James glanced at me, looking alarmed. I didn't meet his gaze—I was in too bad a mood. I didn't want to snap at him. It wasn't his fault that the entire Great Hall was staring at me, nor was it his fault that my parents didn't actually like me enough to turn up when I disappeared for a few hours.

Maybe my parents were sitting back at home, pouring over the paper, or calling Professor Longbottom (who my dad had gone to school with and even roomed with) and demanding to know how this could have happened to their _child_. I only allowed myself a few seconds of this before I looked up at my brother, reminding myself that I did have family here. And I had James and Louis, who weren't yet exactly family, but James was inches from being family, and Louis was just a little behind him. And Rory was definitely getting up there as well.

But I still wanted my praents to feaking show up and show some emotion.

And the fact of it was, my parents weren't bad parents. It wasn't like they did this stuff all the time. Mum was too strict sometimes, but who wasn't, and sometimes Dad acted like the biggest dolt on the planet, but it was sort of endearing. I'd taken their lack of response to heart, and then I'd written it off, because we'd never been not in the same house when we argued. I figured the distance had just torn this rift in our communications.

Not that they were actively ignoring their only daughter.

"How did us sneaking off grounds and getting attacked turn into an attack on Hogwarts?" James asked us slowly, interrupting my reverie, and I shrugged with my good shoulder, trying to get back into the conversation. I saw Louis wincing: he knew as well as I did that James would freak out because he'd hurt his family, his name, whatever. It was such a James mentality to look at a bad situation and think 'hmm. well, this sucks. I wonder how I can possibly make this into my fault.' "It's not even like this was aimed around me—can't this stupid reporter even tell who the target was?" I just looked away. Me. The target of all this, the reason my friends had been hurt, was me. And I wasn't even taking a James mentality towards it: it was _true_. Professor Longbottom had as good as said that I was the reason.

"You ask me as if I know." I muttered in irritation, scooping a fried egg onto my plate and grabbing a piece of toast. "I can't even move my freaking right arm." I heard snickering from the Slytherin table, and I didn't react, just beginning to eat.

"Don't let 'em get to you, Ser." Louis told me softly, glancing back at the girls who were laughing at the picture on the front of the paper. "They're just stupid." I took a deep breath and forced myself to smile at Louis and James, and James's entire posture relaxed—poor guy had been freaking out that I was angry at him, apparently.

"Sorry, I'm just in the worst mood." I murmured, looking across the room to where the two aforementioned idiots were sitting, laughing over a copy of the Daily Prophet. James frowned, but said nothing, his eyes stony. "And Gallagher and Landau are big enough idiots to add to it. And I can't kill them with this stupid sling on my arm." James shifted uncomfortably in his seat, looking down at his plate, then up at Louis, then at me.

"They're still bothering you?" He asked, sounding bothered, and I just rolled my eyes, looking away from Gallagher and Landau to glance sideways at James. He was still looking intently at me, and I realized that I was being insensitive: James and Louis still had people hating me because of them issues. I had to be careful.

"Not really." I grinned. "But I might not stop you from hurting them if you pulled another stunt like you did last time." James looked caught between amused and concerned, but Louis just sighed.

We fell silent for a few minutes before James turned to me, grinning suddenly, and brandishing his pack of colored quills that he'd effectively stolen from Madame Pomfrey's office. I stared at him for a few seconds before I laughed softly, my bad mood gone as I realized what he wanted.

When he started the drawing on my sling, I was pretty sure he hadn't known it'd become this epic, but epic it had become, because he was planning to work on it a little bit every day. So far, what I could make out, was me with a sword in my hand and something shiny that I was apparently fighting. He hadn't finished the something shiny though, and he refused to tell me what it was, so I just sort of had to let him draw it because my curiosity was officially piquet. I had to know what he was drawing.

"Kay, go ahead," I said in my best resigned voice, trying my hardest to suppress a grin. I actually sort of loved that James was doing this. It was incredibly sweet, and my sling was actually super plain anyway, so James's incredible drawing skills were just brightening it anyway.

"Hey, Sera." Daisy said in cutting voice as she sank into the seat beside me, and I ignored her, continuing to eat. It wasn't even really worth engaging her, not this morning. "So, this picture," She began, "were you _crying_, or is your face normally this blotchy and swollen?" I felt a lump rise--completely unreasonably--in my throrat, turning to face her. It was too easy to turn the hurt her words had carried into anger.

"Hey, at least it's just a picture." I told her, my eyes narrowed. "I feel sorrier for you. You _always_ look swollen and blotchy." She blinked once, in surprise, but there was no further reaction to my sudden decision to engage. I was too irritated with the world at this point.

"At least I have friends who aren't boys." She shot back at me, switching topics: she couldn't win that particular battle.

"At least my friends actually _like_ me, while yours just are too scared to do anything but suck up." I knew I was dissing the rest of my roomies, and I should probably have not done that, but it didn't really register with me until after I'd said it, and I couldn't take it back when I was doing so well in this particular match of wits. And I really, really needed a win after getting my butt handed to me by those guys and then by those centaurs.

"At least I got asked to the Halloween Dance." Daisy shot back and I didn't react, just narrowing my eyes but not speaking. I hadn't been asked to the Halloween Dance. But neither Louis nor James had asked anyone/been asked by anyone either, which was kind of comforting. Edie also hadn't been asked, but I knew that Collin Creevy in Ravenclaw was probably going to, so that wasn't making me feel that much better. I was almost desperate enough to ask James and Louis to just sort of hang out with me at the dance. Also, Halloween was Louis's birthday, so I might just ditch the dance altogether and go down to the kitchens and ask the house elves for a cake for me and James and maybe Rory (who was working up the courage to ask out Aileen, one of my roommates who I didn't much like but she'd been nice to Rory so far, which got her points) could surprise Louis.

I must have been silent long enough, because she just smirked, then stood up. "Just like I thought." She told me quietly, and shoved her paper at me while she walked away. I winced as she jostled my shoulder, then turned back to the table.

"I sort of hate her too, if it's any comfort." Louis said finally, his voice quiet and assessing, and I just drank some pumpkin juice, glaring at my plate. What Louis had said wasn't really any comfort, although it had been a nice effort.

It was just one of those days.

***

A few hours later, just after my last class, my day had gotten significantly worse: I'd exploded Daisy's eyebrows off in Potions (yes, she was my potions partner, and the irony is not lost on me) and lost Gryffindor a few points, and James and I had played a fantastically fun but badly-ending game called Annoy-Professor-Binns-Until-He-Freaks, in which we _annoyed Professor Binns until he freaked_. Ground-breaking, I know. We'd thrown little pieces of paper through him and into the burning fireplace behind him, simultaneously driving him insane and destroying the evidence. We tallied up who got more through him and then added more points as we added risk--writing our names on the paper before throwing them into the fire, so that if we missed he could read them, etc. It'd pretty much kept me sane through the irritation that was History of Magic. Until, of course, I'd missed. And then gotten in trouble and lost _more _points.

And then Louis and I ran into Gallagher and Landau coming from Transfiguration.

"Sera." Brian began acidically, stepping directly in my path, and I stopped, glaring up at him.

"What the hell do you want?" I demanded, taking a half step forward in a challenge. He was not going to ruin my day.

"Hard to say." Gregor Landau, Brian's usually-quiet best friend, began, looking at his friend as if this was a new conversation. "Maybe we want help with our homework?"

"I'm leaning towards we just want her homework." Brian said, pretending to sound knowledgable. Which, of course, was impossible, because I was fairly sure his brain had to be smaller than a snitch.

"Piss off, Gallagher." I told him angrily. "Last time you and I faught, I got one night's detention and you got two." I smirked. "Do you really want to repeat that? _Really?"_ Louis sighed, glancing around anxiously.

"We shouldn't be doing this..." He murmured to me, and I just shot him an irritated glance. Louis was awesome, he really was. But he had _no backbone at all_. And in situations like this, that became a serious liability.

"Weasley's chicken." Greg said cruelly, and Louis bristled. Despite his lack of backbone, he was still a boy and thus had a male ego. Granted, it was smaller than James's _massive_ ego. But it was still there. And Louis had enough cousins and older sisters to know how to stand up for himself if absolutely necessary. Only absolutely necessary.

"You're just too big of a coward to fight someone your own size so you're fighting a girl four inches shorter than you." Louis said loudly, and I saw a few older students begin to look towards us. I prayed that Teddy, Victoire, Wes and Alec weren't anywhere near hear--I knew that none of them would be able to resist interfering. They were older siblings, wired to interrupt any bullying, even if they were annoying as hell every other time (ex. Alec). "Think James and I haven't noticed that you only bother Sera when we're not with her? Or in this case, when James isn't with her?" He smirked, crossing his arms across his chest and looking, for the first time I'd met him, actually scornful. It was sort of disconcerting. "You're pathetic."

"Ew, slytherins." Alec said in irritation as he walked up with two of his friends, and I suddenly didn't care that he'd walked up: Louis had just killed this argument for us. "Ser, why are you slumming?" He asked me easily, putting his arm around my shoulders and looking down at me, and I grinned up at him, even as Brian and Greg suddenly watched us a little more apprehensively.

"We were just talking, Thomas." Gallagher said quietly, and Alec looked amused that he knew his name.

"You know who I am, but I don't know who _you _are." Alec pointed out, and Gallagher rolled his shoulders, while Landau just looked calmer. Gallagher had beat me up. Landau hadn't. Alec knew Gallagher's name from his parents and from me--not Greg's.

"Brian Gallagher." Gallagher murmured, and Alec straightened up, raising his eyebrows.

"Ah, the boy who landed Sera in Longbottom's office last month." He said quietly. "I wasn't so okay with that whole incident, you know."

"Al." I said quietly, my voice no longer teasing. "Don't even bother. He's not worth it." I glanced at Alec's friends pleadingly, but they just looked sort of complacent--evidently, they expected nothing less of my godbrother than for him to be pissed off that some kids were being jerks to his little godsister. I planted myself firmly in front of Alec and touched his arm with my good hand. "Come on. They're just stupid Slytherin guys."

"Fine." He said after a moment, looking over my head at Brian and Gregor, both of whom disappated into the crowd of students around us. Alec sighed, dropping his arms, but I hugged him with my good arm for a second. "I wish you'd let me crush him." He told me in irritation.

"You should have." Alec's friend put in unhelpfully, and I glanced at him long enough to glare scathingly. Alec's friend shrunk a little and Alec grinned as I look back at him.

"Thank you." I told him. I glanced at Louis, then realized he deserved recognition: he'd kicked some serious butt with Brian. I hugged him tightly with one arm and he hugged me back sheepishly. I grinned, squeezing him tighter for a moment before releasing him. "That was awesome." Louis's face went scarlet, and then he swallowed, and recovered. Blush, swallow, recover. That _had_ to stop happening.

"He deserved it." Louis said after a second, shrugging, and I nodded in agreement.

"Okay, well, as fun as it is to hang out with first years, I've gotta get going." Alec said sarcastically, and I rolled my eyes at him, still smiling. "Bye Ser."

"Bye Al." I said quickly, and he turned to face his friends. I grabbed Louis's hand and pulled him along behind me, still way too pleased with the way that argument had gone. "Louis, I've never seen you _do_ that before!" I exclaimed as we entered the staircases, releasing his hand as I turned to face Louis, walking backwards up the stairs. He was blushing again, but I ignored it. Blushing was one of those things that was just way too awkward to talk about, even it was driving me absolutely up the wall. "I mean you act like that with James and I sometimes but never with _other _people!" I grinned, and Louis grinned weakly back, following me up one set of stairs, than another, and we trooped into the Gryffindor common room together, falling into the armchairs by the fire, which were, miraculously, vacant. "That was _so_ cool!" I was euphoric, it was ridiculous.

"Sister dear," Wes said charmingly from behind me, and I twisted in my seat as Wes came up behind me. "Longbottom wants to see us."

"You and me, us?" I questioned, frowning a little, and he nodded, shrugging. "Why?"

"I don't know." Wes said, raising his eyebrows. "But I assume you haven't gotten in so much trouble since yesterday that you're being called in and I'm just there as the only member of the Finnigan Clan that can actually be tracked down long enough to come." I rolled my eyes, getting up carefully and glancing at Louis. "Can you get Edie to put my stuff away in my room?" I requested with a hopeful smile. "I'd ask you but I think the stairs go all flat when guys try to go up them..." Louis nodded.

"Come find me and James after you come back, kay?" He asked me, and I nodded.

"Course." I said easily. It wasn't like I had so many friends I was going to go off and hang out with them while Louis waited around for me to come back. "Wait for me before your go down to dinner, please?" I requested, and Louis nodded. "And tell Jamesie to bring his colored quills," I continued indulgently, and Louis chuckled.

"I don't think I need to tell him, but sure." Louis told me, and I grinned at him, even as Wes cleared his throat, watching Louis apprehensively.

"Come on, Sera," Wes said quietly, glaring at Louis and beginning to lead me out of the common room. I frowned, confused, up at Wes, but glanced back at Louis, waving. When we got outside the portrait hole, I turned to Wes for an explanation.

"What was that?" I demanded. "You and Alec get _so weird_ around Louis and James and Rory--what is with that?" I continued, and Wes just ignored me, continuing to walk.

"It's nothing, come on, squirt." I stopped, my mouth falling open, and Wes turned to walk backwards, a wicked grin on his face. "I don't forget that easily. You still have Teddy to thank for that oh-so-charming nickname." I ran after him (as best as I could with my arm in the sling, which made it awkward) and Wes caught me as I stumbled. "Merlin, Sera, learn to walk." He complained, but he still looked alarmed.

We turned onto another hallway and I winced, readjusting my sling. I felt a little too nervous about this meeting--but it was probably just a reaction to all the stress of the last few days. Pomfrey had warned me--purely cautionarily--that Rory, James and I might have nightmares, and that the press coverage the story was already getting could add to that. I reached into my pocket and touched my wand. I wouldn't need it, but it was still comforting to know I wasn't ever going to be so helpless again as I'd been with those centaurs.

"Your arm hurt?" Wes asked me, frowning.

"A little--no big deal, though." I told him easily. It was interesting how I was already wired to downplay stuff--espeically surrounded by people like James, Louis, Alec and Wes, all of whom cared way too much about me to let stuff like my shoulder hurting slide. "Pomfrey said that might happen."

"I guess. You were sectusempra'd." He sounded reproachful, suddenly, as he spoke, and I glanced up at him.

"You, and Pomfrey and James's parents all said that like it means something." I murmured, and Wes sighed, glancing down at me and running a hand through his hair.

"It's a really, really powerful curse--and really, really dark. It kills the reciever like, 90% of the times it's cast." He sighed, glancing further down the hallway. "And, I mean, Pomfrey speculates the spell had to burn through some branches before it reached you or something, because it didn't kill you with, like, no medical aid, but..." He rubbed the back of his neck, then rolled his shoulders: he was _super_ uncomfortable with the way this conversation was going. "It just takes a serious bad guy to cast something that harmful at an eleven-year-old girl, and I'm just..." He ran a hand down his face, stopping in the empty hallway and turning to face me. "You just gave me the scare of my life yesterday, Sera." He said after a second, and I felt guilt fill my heart.

"Sorry." I murmured. "I didn't mean to."

"I know, I know." Wes said tiredly. "It's not your fault, or at least not entirely." He rolled his eyes, resuming walking. "You're still an idiot for sneaking out of the castle for a damned birthday present. But I know you would have been back in time to not give me an aneurysm had it been in your control." We stopped in front of Longbottom's door, and I sighed, straightening up and feeling like a really bad little sister. And that maybe Mom's howler earlier this year had had some validity--maybe I was one of those kids who was sort of constantly in trouble.

Wes knocked, and the door opened almost instantly: I bit my lip, walking into the office first.

"Monica!" I said in surprise as Alec's mother rose from where she'd been perched on Longbottom's desk: Dean was leaning against the windowsill, looking horrified.

"Oh, sweetheart," She said in a rush as she came forward, hugging me tightly, but still careful of my shoulder injury. "We couldn't come up yesterday, I'm so sorry--I was too busy trying to find your mother and have her explain to me exactly why she was alienating her beautiful children." She pulled away, smoothing my hair down. "Wes, angel, I'm so sorry I wasn't here with you waiting for Sera..." She swept Wes up in a giant hug, and I glanced at Dean's immobile form thus far, feeling my stomach turnover in anticipation.

"Hey Monica..." He said dutifully, hugging her tightly and kissing her cheek before pulling away. "And it's fine."

"Dean?" I asked lowly, walking up to my godfather. "Dean, what's wrong?" I pressed when he didn't respond.

"Nothing's wrong, but I'm just... God, I'm going to kill Seamus." He murmured, looking up at me. "Wes, SerBear, we need to have a talk." I looked at Longbottom, tyring to read my head of house. He just stood, looking into the fire, however. "First off, let's start with your parents haven't been ignoring you." His words scared me, but it was really his tone that got me backing up, into Wes, who put a comforting hand on my good shoulder. "They're doing some work for the Auror Department." He looked up at us, then specifically at me. "We thought... I don't know, but Seamus didn't tell us what was happening, neither did Bethy."

"What does that have to do with them not talking to us?" I asked softly.

"They're... well, okay, I can't really give you the details because I don't know them, but they're not going to be available for a while." Dean said slowly, looking haunted.

"What the hell is going on?" Wes demanded after a minute, frowning. "Dean... you're freaking me out--what could our parents possibly be doing that they can't be "available"?" Wes asked him, glaring.

"They were supposed to tell you." Monica murmured behind us, and Wes and I wheeled around. "But they didn't--to you two, they just disappeared, and the Ministry's looking into that, but yesterday, Harry heard James talking about how angry he was that your parents were being jerks."

"What do you mean _the ministry's looking into that_?" I demanded after a second. That sounded like _such _Ministry of Magic BS.

"It means that your parents are doing work that's really, really valuable to the wizarding area of Great Britain and unfortunately, that's interfering with their personal lives." Dean said, but I heard how bitter he was. Dad and Dean were best friends--best, best friends. Better than brothers. If anyone would have known what Mum and Dad were up to, it should have been Dean.

"Does..." Wes was looking angrier by the second. "Does _anyone_ know where they are?" There was silence, and he cursed, turning and slamming his fist into the wall.

"We assume." Longbottom said after a minute, turning to us, his first words of this little meeting. "We assume the Minister knows where they are, that someone in the Auror department knows where they are." He sighed, glancing up at Dean and Monica. "But Harry, Ron, Bill, and Cho haven't heard of anything with the name Finnigan on it."

"So, essentially, what you're telling us," I began, my eyes narrowed. I was suddenly _furious_. Here I'd been assuming I must have been the daughter from hell for the past few weeks. The reality was my parents were doing something for the Ministry of Magic except no one had seen them. "Is that my parents might be doing some top-secret job or might be missing, and we have _absolutely_ no way of figuring out which one it is." I stared at the adults around me, feeling betrayed. "How long have you guys known?"

"Seamus hasn't talked to me since you and Alec left for school." Dean murmured. "I knew something had to be up. But I had no idea what until I got the Prophet this morning and saw my goddaughter had been attacked." Dean shrugged. "I called Harry, because James had been involved too."

"I've talked to them since then, but only until the end of September, when I got detention for the fight James was in with Gallagher." I pointed out. "So we can track them to there--but then what?"

"We have no idea--" Longbottom began, but Wes reeled around.

"That's not _good enough_!" He protested, shouting. "You are the adults--_they_ are the adults! First my sister is attacked and then my parents are either fucking _missing_ or just sort of decided that they could go do some work and no one would miss them!" I sighed, looking up at the ceiling of the office, as if for help from God, before I focused my energy on bringing Wes down from this ledge.

But how could I when I was still reeling from this news?

"No, this doesn't... makes sense." I murmured slowly, looking up at Dean, Monica and Longbottom. "My parents aren't idiots. And they both already have jobs, and it's not like they talk to anyone at the Ministry on any kind of regular basis." I narrowed my eyes. "Someone at the Ministry must have looked at a problem in a case and thought "Seamus and Elisabeth Finnigan." I swallowed, lifting my head bravely. "Who thought that? And about what?"

"We have no idea." Monica murmured. "We do know they haven't been declared missing by the Ministry yet. Which means that whoever they're in contact with at the Ministry knows where they are."

"Or wants them to stay missing without searching." Wes added darkly, and I smacked his arm.

"That was _super_ helpful, Wes, you're right." I shot at him. "Let's speculate Mum and Dad are _dead._ You are a _fantastic_ role model."

"The Auror Department is the cream of crop in terms of the courageous and selfless, Wesley." Professor Longbottom pointed out after I'd finished my short scolding. "The only corruption there really occured in the 90s--it's been sixteen years since Voldemort fell."

"If that's the case," Wes began, his voice clear and quiet, his words indesputibly true, "then I need to know that _someone on this planet_ knows where the hell my parents are." I opened my mouth to say something, before something struck me.

The attacks started the day I got the Hogwarts--the seemingly random incidents that couldn't really be pinned down to a single person or cause. And that was the last time Dean had seen Seamus.

"The day we left for Hogwarts," I said slowly, my voice strangely high-pitched, "Did Mum and Dad go home? After the train left, I mean?"

Dean frowned at me. "No, they went Diagon Alley, they had to go to Diagon Alley, run some errands." I closed my eyes.

"Have you been to the house?" I asked softly, forcing my eyes back open. Dean shook his head. "I'll bet you anything they haven't either." I looked up at Wes, feeling dizzy with my realization and the subsequent fear. "The day we left for Hogwarts, the day Mum and Dad stopped talking to Dean and Monica, my boat flipped over in the Lake and the Giant Squid tried to drown me." Wes stared at me.

"Holy...." He murmured. He looked up at Dean, frowning, suddenly turning back to the only adults in our lives now, despite the fact that he was pissed off. "Sera's been attacked and stuff--the Bludgers too," Wes added, looking back down at me.

"Those guys in the forest," I murmured, covering my face with my good hand.

"The Centaurs." Wes finished. There was silence before I uncovered my face, feeling beyond annoyed.

"What the _hell _has been going on, Neville?" Dean demanded angrily, standing and turning to Longbottom.

"I've been sending her parents letters, trying to floo call them," Professor Longbottom said calmly. "I even flooed over to their house yesterday, when Sera went missing--Parvati suggested it--but it was no use, no one was there." He sighed, looking at us. "And there was a pile of letters on the windowsill. Unopened." I leaned my head back. "I can't reach them. But I've been trying."

"What'd our house look like?" I asked, before I could help it. I missed home, or at least to concept of it.

"Empty." Neville said after a moment, and I blinked. "No furniture, no dust, no nothing."

"No _furniture_?!" Wes and I demanded at the same time.

"There should have been furniture." Dean agreed.

"Maybe I had the wrong address?" Neville suggested, and I stared at him.

"It's the only house at the end of Dogar Drive." Monica murmured. "For miles. The only house."

"So, to recap, any evidence of my life before my fourth year at Hogwarts has disappeared with my parents, we can't declare them missing because really they might not be, we can't check whether or not they're missing, and someone's trying to kill my sister." Wes said bitterly, his face twisting in anger. He stood. "Anything else?"

"That's it, we just wanted to keep you appraised of the situation, sweetheart." Monica murmured, reaching out to put her hand on Wes's arm, but Wes was already pulling away. I stood and followed him. Wes came first--Dean and Monica or no Dean and Monica: Wes always won. "Ser, Wes, wait a sec--lemme--" I followed Wes into the hallway, and he slammed the door behind us. In the hallway, we paused, and then punched the wall, his shoulders already shaking. He was crying.

"God, Wes..." I murmured, cautiously putting my hand on his back and trying to rub his back comfortingly as he leaned against the wall. "Come on, bro. We don't know anything for sure--they could be fine, not having any idea that we're sitting here having anxiety attacks." I paused, my resolve shattering as Wes sobbed. I held on, though, waiting it out until he'd stopped crying and his breathing had returned to normal.

"We can't tell anyone." Wes said softly, and I sighed.

"I might tell James and Louis," I told him honestly, because when you only have on legitimate family member left, you feel like you have to treat them twice as nicely. "Becuase they'll get it, but without an official Missing Persons thing going on, everyone else will look at us like we're insane." I sighed softly. "So someone's..._hunting_ us?" I asked after a second, and Wes looked at me, and must have seen the new edge of fear this forced into me.

"Hey, hey, Serafina." He said, and I looked up at him. "Nothing's gonna happen to you." He told me seriously. "First off, I'm not _letting_ anything happen you. Second, I didn't realize, before, that there was something _after_ you--I suppose I considered it, but it was never an actual realistic thought, you know? Why hunt an eleven-year-old girl?" Wes fell silent for a second before continued. "Anyway, now that I know I'm not just trying to protect you from fate, I'll actually, I dunno, do something about it." I blinked, feeling touched. That was maybe the nicest thing Wes had ever said to me.

"That was... really, really nice." I murmured. He grinned crookedly.

"Well, it's beginning to look like we're about it for the Finnigans for a while." He murmured, and I shivered. Was my family even real once my parents weren't here? "Family's family. Especially when there's only two of 'em."

"I should get back to the common room." I murmured after a few seconds of silence. "I told Louis to wait for me before he went to dinner. And James is probably back by now."

"You guys are best friends, huh?" Wes asked me analytically, and I nodded, taking an awkward step down the hallway: Wes followed suit, and we began to slowly walk back to the common room. "That's... hm."

"Hm?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. The fact we'd just made the wildest change of subjects ever didn't escape me, but I wouldn't be able to hold on through another Wes breakdown. Distracting him--and myself--was welcome.

"Just, be forewarned." Wes said after a second as we turned onto the hallway the Gryffindor common room was off of. "James and Louis have... more than friendly feelings." He sounded incredibly awkward, and I frowned.

"No!" I protested. "Just friends--they haven't even asked me to the Halloween Dance, and we spend every waking second together, practically."

"Sera. I was once an awkward eleven-year-old boy who liked a girl." He told me knowledgably. "They're too chicken to ask, or they both know the other likes you too and don't wanna risk their friendship." We were at the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, so we stopped, and even as he said the password and the portrait swung open and we stepped inside the passage way.

"Ser!" James called from the couch, his face lighting up, and I grinned almost instinctively back at him. I didn't like James and James didn't like me--same went with Louis.

Right?


	10. Friends O' Mine

"Squirt, good throw, but too far to the left." Teddy told me three days later, the day before Halloween and Louis's birthday. I nodded, the only thing I could manage at my level of exhaustion. I was pretty sure concentrating long enough to talk would make me fall off my broom. I'd spent from the end of classes, through dinner, to eleven, which was what time it was now, learning to play quidditch one handed and with the wrong hand. So I was about to collapse. I technically wasn't even supposed to be playing quidditch on pain of death, but three weeks was a hell of a long time for a first-year chaser to sit out. "We should stop, though—Wes and James will burn me at the stake if you faint." He grinned at me, and I couldn't even summon the energy to do anything but guide my broom to the ground, stumbling towards the castle. Teddy fell easily into step with me, looking thoroughly amused that I was still standing.

We walked for a few seconds in silence before I looked up at his crooked grin and glared.

"I hate you." I said finally, and Teddy laughed, throwing his head back as he did, and I just scowled at him darkly. Sure, Teddy. Just laugh at my pain. Thank you. That really makes me feel better.

"You'll survive, don't worry." He told me, and I just shook my head, keeping my focus on the castle on the hill before me: anything else and I might just topple over. Or pass out. "I drive my team to just a bit before the breaking point, not farther." I didn't even crack a smile, just scowled at him. I waited another minute, stumbled because I could barely feel my feet for cold, and then looked back up at my quidditch captain.

"You're a jerk. I hate you." I repeated, and Teddy sighed.

"And I was wondering how you and James got to be such fast friends. He's stubborn as hell too." He said sarcastically, but he was smiling, so he didn't mean it maliciously. "So, has Gallagher still been bothering you?" Teddy asked me after a minute of quiet, and I blinked, than looked up at him. I'd almost forgotten about that, how Teddy had fixed up my cheek—what had actually stuck with me from that day was the following argument, when James had been about ready to kill a guy who'd just called me a name and split my cheek open. That was the first time that it was pretty obvious that James and I were a team, best friends. It was just a bummer I had to get beaten up to prove it.

"Uh, a little bit, but it's okay." I said slowly. "And James and Wes and Louis and Alec know who he is now. So if he does anything too bad, he'll get the crap beaten out of him. First by me and then the boys." I rolled my eyes. As nice as it was they were willing to do that for me, I still wasn't exactly comfortable with them getting in trouble (ex. James) for it. "But aside from that, he's all talk no bite. Hasn't laid a hand on me since the original fight."

"That's pretty much the way guys like that work." He told me. "They get scared after they get in trouble and stay away." He chuckled. "And I'm sure Jamie freaked him out. I heard James went at him pretty seriously." Teddy was watching me out of the corners of his eyes, I knew, but I just kept my eyes on the castle looming in front of us.

"Attacked him in the hallway." I confirmed. "You heard that, though, that was when we got dragged down to Longbottom's office." I went on, glancing up at him. He shrugged easily, and I just looked down at the cobblestones now under my feet. We'd already reached the courtyard, and I glanced up at Teddy. I really wanted to ask him about James and Louis and what Wes had said to me about them _liking_ me, but I couldn't work up the courage, so I just fell silent. Teddy was probably who James was talking to about this stuff anyway--it would be beyond awkward for him to have to tell me that. And beyond awkward for me to fess up that my brother thought I had a crush on James and James had a crush on me. Well, Wes had really only _said_ the part about James liking me, but I knew Wes, and I knew that was what he was really getting at.

But what Wes had said had been driving me _crazy_. What if they _did_ like me? I was pretty much safe for this dance, since it was tomorrow and no one, including the guys, had asked me. But the next dance, the Holiday one, the week after we returned from break? I was screwed. The fact of it was, I was screwed _now_. Stupid big brother had to bring up that he was pretty sure my best friends liked me.

Ten minutes later, I stumbled into the common room, Teddy having left me at the portrait hole to go get some food from the kitchens, and spotted James and Louis chatting on the couches beside the fire, most likely waiting for me. I collapsed beside James on the couch by the fire without a word, curling up and putting my head on his shoulder and closing my eyes. James stiffened, before he cautiously put his arm around my shoulders.

"Sera?" Louis asked after a second. "Are you okay?" He sounded sort of resigned: he knew me well enough, by this point, that he wasn't that alarmed when I could still walk, albeit barely. I slurred something that was supposed to be a word out, and I could just imagine the boys trading looks of amusement over my head. "How interesting." Louis said dryly. "Care to elaborate?"

"Sleepy," I mumbled after a second, and James chuckled.

"Well, yes, I assumed so." Louis said, sarcasm heavy in his voice. "Where were you?"

"Quidditch Pitch," I mumbled.

"We had practice?" James asked me, sounding alarmed, and I resettled my head against his shoulder. I didn't respond, and he asked me again. "Sera?! Did we have practice?" I didn't respond again.

"Your shoulder's comfy." I mumbled, and he put his hands on my shoulders and sat me up, looking me straight in my now-open eyes. "Why?" I demanded irritably. "Why would you do this?"

"_Did we have practice_?" He demanded, and I blinked, then shook my head.

"My sadistic quidditch captain was trying to torture me into using my left hand." I blinked, the glanced back at his shoulder, which had been very comfortable until he'd practically assaulted me. "Can I go back to sleep, now?"

"You're sleeping on the couch, then," James informed me, and I frowned. "I'd leave you down here," He elaborated. I pouted, then shoved his shoulder a little bit and he relented, sitting back on the couch. I smiled sleepily and put my head back on his shoulder. "Wait, so you were using your left hand?"

"My right hand's useless." I told him softly, and he put his arm back around my shoulders, this time more relaxedly. "For three freaking weeks. And I don't wanna sit out that long, just cause..." _I was afraid Teddy'd replace me_. But I couldn't say that to the boys. They wouldn't understand and then they'd get awkward because there was practically a law against sharing actual feelings. "I don't wanna get out of practice." I finished lamely. It wasn't a lie--I _didn't_ want to get out of practice. It just wasn't the _entire_ truth. But I still felt guilty.

"You shouldn't be playing." Louis said after a second, sounding reproachful.

"What'd you suggest?" I asked him, sitting up and rubbing my eyes tiredly. "I'm a first-year chaser, I barely made it on the team as is--I don't wanna push it with three dozen injuries." Louis frowned, but fell silent: James, on the other hand, had already been quieter than he usually was: he met my gaze seriously.

"You were seriously hurt." James said slowly, and I felt my eyes widen: as protective as James was of me, he usually didn't try to stop me from doing stuff--just made sure he was there to catch me when I did do stuff. Now, though, this was seriously different. "Like, the curse you had, Ser--most people don't _survive_ that. You should probably still be in the Hospital Wing but you raised hell in there to get out--" I opened my mouth to protest, but he silenced me with a look: this was, techincally true, as I had in fact just been the biggest brat on the planet until Pomfrey released me, but she wouldn't have released me until she thought it was actually safe. "And Madame Pomfrey told you that you couldn't play." He swallowed, looking nervous.

"Jamie..." I murmured, keeping my gaze on him. "I'm new on the team, I can't... just stop. Teddy will replace me." I forced out the words I'd been keeping to myself, and James shook his head instantly, but I continued. "And he'd have every right to: I'm not a good enough player to keep around."

"Teddy would never replace you." He told me seriously. "And aside from that, you think me and...and Wes would just let Teddy get someone new?" I blinked, then shrugged one shoulder in irritation, dropping my gaze to the ground. "Sera! Come on!"

"I know..." I muttered, looking up at him again. "Look, James, just drop it, okay?" My voice had turned to almost incomprehensible, and James rolled his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. He remained silent, though, and I smiled weakly at him, my own thank you.

"Ser, what are we supposed to be doing about the dance?" Louis asked me after a moment of James and I staring at each other seriously. I glanced at him. "Because I sort of want to..." I opened my mouth to say something, but my stomach growled ferociously, and I closed my mouth, blushing a little. James's mouth twitched in a smile, but he didn't, not really. Louis did, however, and laughed a little.

"Merlin, Ser." Louis said, grinning sort of confusedly at me. "Don't you eat?"

"I didn't have dinner." I said defensively, frowning and throwing an angry glance towards Teddy Lupin, who was laughing with his friends, his arm around Victoire's waist. "It's not my fault I have a mean quidditch captain who doesn't like to feed his players."

"Heard that, Squirt," Teddy called from the other side of the common room.

"_Seven hours,_ Teddy!" I called back, throwing my head back. Teddy laughed loudly, I rolled my eyes but glanced at Louis, smiling a little. "_Seven freaking hours_!"

"I've got some candy upstairs." Louis told me, and I raised my eyebrows, my expression going quickly from amused to desperate. Louis laughed easily, standing, and my stomach growled again, this time even louder. James smirked, and I shoved his shoulder a little. "D'you want some?" Louis offered to me, and I nodded hurriedly, standing as well.

"Just a piece so I don't have to wait till breakfast." I swore to him, putting my left hand over my heart and raising my right one, and Louis chuckled and nodded, swatting my hand down while he stood and started towards the back of the common room, where the entrances to the dormitories were. I followed him, feeling like a puppy, and James came too, looking beyond hassled in his classic James way. "I _love_ you, thank you!" I told him earnestly.

"You never give _me_ candy." James said, holding a hand over his heart and pretending to sound hurt as we walked up the stairs leading to the boys' dorms. I grinned back at him, appreciating that he wasn't being sulky like he sometimes got after we disagreed.

"I like Sera more. Sorry, Cuz." Louis said with an apologetic wave of the hand towards James, and I grinned back at him. "And don't think I don't know that you steal my candy all the time anyway." James gaped at Louis for a second, then reached past me and pinched Louis's arm, and Louis yelped, glaring back at James.

"What are you, _eight_?" Louis demanded angrily, and rubbing the irritated spot. "Lily pinches people!" James scowled at Louis at the mention of his sister, and I just raised my eyebrows. James was weirdly protective of Albus and Lily, whom I'd yet to meet but heard him bring up several times. Obviously it wasn't like Louis didn't like Lily--he was just mentioning she had a penchant for violence, which did not surprise me, considering her brother.

"Lily does not _pinch_ people—" James disputed, his eyes narrowed.

"She pinched me last year at that stupid birthday thing—" Louis protested.

"You were, almost guaranteed, being a brat to her and had it coming." James said, cutting him off. Louis just rolled his eyes and resumed his trek up the stairs, and I glanced between the boys. That'd been unusually hostile for a dispute between them—Jamie and Louis, as I understood it, had been best friends since birth. For them to actually argue over something was pretty uncommon.

"Well, as much fun as that was," I said sarcastically, and James just glanced down at the steps. "Anyway—Louis, tomorrow, do you want your present at breakfast?" Louis glanced back at me, frowning, but I could see him straighten up—he was just as psyched about his birthday as I'd predicted. Hah. Take that James.

"You got him another present?" James asked, and I nodded, turning my confused gaze to him. "I mean, I did too but it's not as good as our original present…"

"Yeah, Dean bought it and sent it to me." I told him, and James raised his eyebrows. "It's scrawnier, and thus cheaper, but it's the same thing." I admitted, and James raised one eyebrow. He put his hand on my back and directed me into Louis's and James's dormitory, and I leapt on Louis's made bed—James's was still unmade, and probably hadn't been decently cleaned since the beginning of school. Louis chuckled as he flipped open his trunk, and James came to sit beside me.

"So is Dean… like your godfather?" James asked tentatively.

"And Alec's dad." I confirmed, nodding. "Dean and Dad have been best friends since their first day at Hogwarts, apparently." I shrugged, and James nodded, apparently familiar with this. He sort of knew Dean--they'd met before apparently, with Alec, but it had been in passing, never like a sit-down situation where they could actually converse. "Anyway, Alec's as good as a brother."

"Some of us are trying to sleep." James and Louis's _really obnoxious_ roommate Malcolm Jorkins said angrily, sitting up in his bed, and I realized, suddenly, that it was almost midnight and we'd all marched into the dorm and started talking, loudly. To be fair, though, I was pretty sure that Malcolm was the only one asleep—I'd seen Neil downstairs, and Rory was in the process of asking Edie to the dance.

"Oh! Serafina." Malcolm said, realizing who I was, and then he frowned in his endlessly judgmental way. I narrowed my eyes. "You can't be here. Especially at night." He glared at us. "You know that girls aren't allowed in here. Teddy already talked to you about this." Ah yes. I remembered Rory and James telling me about Malcolm tattling about them and freaking Teddy out that his little-brother figure was creeping out a girl (when he wasn't).

"I'm eating candy, Malcolm." I scoffed. I felt a little mean, but he was being ridiculous. "I'm sorry we woke you up, but I'm not doing anything I shouldn't be." Malcolm just shook his head, glaring.

"You're not following the rules—"

"It's a rule for the upperclassmen," I told him, cutting him off. "Not for first years." It was, technically, a rule for first years too, but it was just stupid, for first years, especially with my particular batch of emotionally immature friends. Nothing was going to happen to me. The boys, if they even liked me, didn't even have the guts to ask me to the dance. And boys and girls in each other's rooms, alone, was the entire reason for the creation of the rule.

"It still _applies_ to first years—"

"Malcolm, _shut up_." Rory groaned as he walked in, and he threw himself on his bed. He lay there face down, and I glanced at James and Louis, hoping for back up. They just looked mildly alarmed—Rory was by far the cheeriest, and the most practical of our group. He didn't just throw himself on his bed for the hell of it.

"Oh, bloody great, I'm so glad you're all in here waking me up with your stupid drama." Malcolm growled under his breath, and I threw him a withering scowl as I rose to my feet and crossed to Rory's bed. I hesitated, unsure of what I was supposed to do, before I sank down beside him and touched his arm.

"Rore?" I asked softly. "What's up?"

"Collin Creevy asked Edie to the dance before me." Rory said into this pillow, and I sighed, pulling a face while I looked at James and Louis.

"That sucks." I said slowly, not mentioning the fact that it probably would have been wise of Rory to ask Edie sometime earlier than the night before the dance. "But you can ask her to the Holiday Dance." I continued when I ran out of stuff to say. I threw a frantic look at Louis, who glanced at Malcolm, then looked back at me, as baffled as I was about how to act. "And you'll ask her early."

"Yeah, but…" Rory rolled onto his back, pushing himself up on his elbows.

"I get it." I said quietly, dropping my gaze. And I did. I'd sort of hoped one of the boys would ask me to the dance (just as a friend). But it was the night before and no one had. Of course, I did take comfort from the fact that bunches of kids hadn't been asked—like, half the first years were going with friends, not with a 'date'. "Not the same."

"Yeah." Rory murmured dejectedly.

"Whatever, I'm skipping the dance tomorrow, I think, anyway." I told him, waving my hand as if it didn't matter. I tried to make it sound like we already had better plans, but I wasn't even that excited about this. "It's Louis's birthday, we'll just head down to the kitchens or something and get a cake from the house elves."

"No, we should go." Louis objected, and I raised my eyebrows, looking back at him. He blushed suddenly.

"Did you ask someone?" I demanded with a wry smile, and he shook his head hurriedly. I realized James was staring at Louis accusatorily, and I tried to decipher what the hell the boys were thinking. "Well then why would you want to—"

"It's my birthday, come on." Louis said practically, regaining some of his composure, and I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

"But it's so much _harder_ for girls to go to dances…" I whined suddenly, irritated with this new plan. If we'd actually made _plans_ to go, I could have been ready by now. "I have to find a dress. And put on makeup. And do my hair—and do you know who I live with? You have met them, right? They're no help." I glared at Louis, already blaming him for what I was sure would be a failure of a dance. "So it'll just be me and Edie until Aileen needs her and then it's just me." I sighed heavily. "You idiots just have to put on dress robes."

"We have to put on dress robes which, are essentially, dresses." James shot back. "How is that better?"

"Whatever." I muttered, though I was secretly thinking about how much I needed to take a picture of James in his dress robes so I could mock him forever. "Fine, Louis. Since tomorrow is your birthday, I will go to this dance." I looked at James, narrowing my eyes. "But you're going too." James balked, looking angry, then shook his head, smirking as he realized his way out.

"Then Rory's going too." James said simply. Stupid pain-in-the-butt James. Of course Rory didn't want to go to a dance where not only did he not have a date, he also had been turned down for one.

"I'm not going." Rory said adamantly. He caught sight of his expression. "No--No, Serafina Finnigan, I am not going to this retarded dance--it'll just be boring anyway," That was defensive-eleven-year-old-boy talk for he didn't want to go because he'd had his feelings hurt by Edie and now he was going to avoid her at all costs. Unfortunately, he'd used my full name, which meant that any sympathy I might have still held for him immediately left me.

"Yeah, you are." I said seriously. "Come on, I'll distract Collin and you can dance with Edie." I told him, pleading, but Rory didn't look particularly convinced by my offer. "I'll even stage a seriously elaborate kidnapping of Collin." I said jokingly. "Please, Rore? I need my friends there." I punched his shoulder lightly, and he rolled his eyes, but nodded, after a minute.

"Fine, fine." Rory said. "I'll go. But I won't stay long." He paused, thinking over his conditions. "And I reserve the right to ditch at the last minute."

"It's settled then." Louis said, grinning at me. James was still looking sort of panicky and angry, and I wondered what agreement Louis had broken to incur James's anger. Poor Louis--James seemed actually pissed off about this, somehow.

"Okay, Serafina Finnigan, if you don't get out of my dorm, I'm going to go tell a prefect and you'll get in trouble." Malcolm said seriously, and I threw Louis's pillow at Malcolm as Louis shoved two chocolate frogs into my hands.

"Thanks," I told him happily, grinning at him. I slipped out the door and shut it behind him, then heard the muffled sound I could definitively identify as Louis being punched, something that James did often.

Ah, boys. Even if they were still emotionally around age four and a half, they'd been taking steps. I could almost call Louis twleve (like he was, as of midnight). James was still around age eight, I figured, but I didn't really care that much anymore.

I wouldn't trade them for anything.


	11. Nice Guys Finish Last

"This is stupid." James murmured in my ear as we stood at the dance the next day. "I hate this—I just wanted to go to the kitchens to get Louis a stupid cake and then he had to get all annoying and—"

"Will you _stop whining_?" I hissed at him, turning to him. "It's Louis's birthday, we've been here for all of twenty minutes—suck it up." James just glared at me, crossing his arms over his chest, and I turned back to the table, grabbing a cup of pumpkin juice and taking a small sip. I wasn't usually this cranky but my arm hurt because I'd ditched the sling for tonight and James wasn't helping. "And if you're really bored, just ask someone to dance or something." James choked on the bite of brownie he had, and I smirked. "Really slick, there, Jamesie." James glared at me as he spat out his brownie, and I made a face. "Ew." I muttered.

"I'm not just gonna go ask some random girl to come dance with me." James protested after he'd spat out his brownie. I smiled a little bit at him, feeling slightly reassured by this: my suggestion had sounded bad to my own ears as I realized that would entail me being by myself for a little bit.

"Just a suggestion." I told him pleasantly. Rory slid up beside me, and slipped his arm around my shoulders, a manipulative smile playing on his features. I saw James glance apprehensively at him out of the corner of my eye, but ignored it. James was always the first to get weird about normal stuff, closely followed by Louis--arms around shoulders, hugs, pretty much anything that involved human contact.

"So, that distraction you promised me." Rory murmured under his breath, and I rolled my eyes but grinned up at him. "I'm calling it in. Now." His gaze flicked to Edie and Collin who were sitting pretty awkwardly at a table with other Ravenclaw first years. I took a deep breath, feeling nervous: I had to go ask Collin to dance with me, and even though I wasn't actually asking him because I liked him, I still felt I reserved the right to try to summon up some guts before I dared cross the room. "Just ask him to dance, I'll dance with Edie, this'll all be through in a heartbeat." Rory offered, and I glanced frantically at James, feeling seriously, seriously nervous.

But I couldn't let on to that.

"Eh, you take as long as you want." I told him with a shrug and a smile. "Come on, let's go ask." I began to cross the room and felt James and Louis's burning gazes on my back, Louis from where he was talking to Aileen and Neil, and James from the dessert table. Divya was also watching me, as were Greg and Brian. But I always had people staring at me--the point-and-laugh type, mind you, so when people just wanted to observe me, it didn't bother me halfly as much as it probably should have.

I sank down on the other side of Collin as Rory did the same with Edie, and both looked suddenly greatful for our appearance, even if the rest of the table was staring at me sort of rudely. Ravenclaw kids were sort of exclusive--they felt they were smarter than everyone else, and thus shouldn't have had to deal with everyone else in the school on any kind of regular basis. Mind you, that was only some of them: Collin was perfectly nice. "Hey Collin," I said cheerfully, and he smiled a little at me. Collin and I had only talked a few times since the first night, but we did sit together in some classes.

"Hi Sera." He paused, glancing at Rory and Edie, who were already getting into a conversation, before he turned back to me relievedly. He obviously didn't want to ditch the girl he asked to the dance, even if they weren't having a very good time. That was nice. "Hey, okay. What's up?"

"I was actually wondering if you wanted to dance with me?" I forced my voice to stay as confident as it had been when I'd been teasing James, and Collin raised his eyebrows a bit, his eyes going wider as he met my gaze. I just held it, holding my breath as well, before he nodded, flashing me a small grin. He stood up and grabbed my hand. I blushed a little, letting him lead me onto the dance floor and trying to ignore James's murderous gaze.

Of course a slow song came on as Collin and I stepped onto the floor, because fate works that way, and he stopped at where we were on the floor, cautiously putting his arms around my waist and I put my arms around his neck. I'd never danced with a guy before, but I did watch some muggle TV and I'd been at Alec's party last summer when he invited some of his friends and they'd danced. I bit my lip and took a deep breath. It was a little bit awkward being this close to a guy I wasn't that close with, I wasn't going to lie, but I was doing this for Rory--and Rory deserved this. He was a pretty good friend and hadn't--with James--let my butt get kicked by those guys in the forest. I could be a little awkward for a few minutes with a nice guy who'd forgive it to help him.

"So did you come with someone...?" Collin asked me quietly, which was pretty much the only way he ever talked. Collin was pretty reserved, pretty mature, and I thought it was sweet: of course, James found it as annoying as hell.

"Not really," I admitted softly. "No one really asked me, but the boys were going so I just sort of came with them for fun." Collin nodded once, and I smiled. He was making an effort, at least. "Having fun with Edie?"

"Er, yeah." He said, lying but too nice to do anything else. I raised my eyebrows, and he chuckled once. "Well, not really, but it's not her fault." I nodded understandingly.

"Got it." I murmured.

"This just isn't really something I like to do." Collin told me after moment of silence, looking anxious as he glanced down at me, intent to keep the peace. I just kept my face expressionless: I didn't like dances either, but I wanted to hear Collin's honest opinion, not his please-people opinon. "The whole get dressed up, go to a dance thing--that doesn't sound nice to me." I grinned up at him, chuckling.

"Well, yeah, Collin, no one really looks at these things and thinks 'yay, a dance'!" I kept my voice lightly teasing, and he grinned, nodding hurriedly.

"I know, but the girls usually do." He shrugged, looking over at Edie and Rory who were dancing, looking awkward, and I was pretty sure there wouldn't one dance tonight where people wouldn't be awkward for at least part of it. "And Edie's nice, she is. But we just don't have that much in common." He rolled his eyes. "And she was practically in tears after Rory asked her and I'm not really equipped to deal with tears." Collin looked sort of alarmed at the prospect of tears, even in retrospect, and I laughed softly.

"Well, I don't really like dances either." I told him. "If that's any comfort. And I think she was just panicky at the idea of hurting someone's feelings, not trying to ditch you for Rore." I shrugged my good shoulder, and Collin nodded. The song ended and I grinned at him, pulling away, and I glanced at James, who was sort of scolwing darkly. I crossed my arms defensively across my chest and crossed the floor, going up to the table he'd sat down at at some time and pulling a chair up beside him. "Okay, what's wrong?" I asked him softly.

"Nothing," James said darkly, and I straightened up, looking up at Louis, who was standing, talking to Aileen Quigley. I couldn't catch his gaze, and I swallowed, looking back at James.

"You sure?" I asked after a second.

"I'm sure, okay? Everything's _great_." He said sarcastically, standing up and shoving his chair towards me: I sat back, my eyes wide, startled by the loud noise. No one else seemed to notice, but James stormed out into the front hall, and I felt a hasty blush work it's way up from my neck, unreasonable tears filling my eyes.

What had I done wrong?

Louis must have seen James storm out, because he smiled tightly at Aileen and came over to put his hand on my shoulder, looking concerned. "What's up with Jamie?"

"No idea, I just asked him what was wrong..." I whispered, looking up at him, and his eyes widened. I bit my lip, looking at the door James had just gone through, and Louis squeezed my shoulder comfortingly, the biggest amount of emotional maturity I'd ever seen in my life.

"Come on, SerBear." He said affectionately, pressing his lips together. "James's is a jerk sometimes, you get used to it. It's hard to predict." He sighed, looking after his cousin for a minute, before he glanced at me and sighed tiredly. "C'mon, it's not worth--"

"I'm going to go talk to him." I murmured, rising to my feet and tucking a few stray strands of hair behind my ear. Louis put his hands on my shoulders and shook his head emphatically, holding my gaze with his own hazel gaze.

"James is being a jerk to you and it sucks but don't play into it." Louis said quietly. I blinked, then nodded once, ducking my head and blushing with embarrassment. He slipped his arms around my shoulders and gave me a one-armed hug. I wasn't sure why this was so embarrassing--I mean, I hadn't done anything wrong--but James being mad at me was somehow destroying any good mood I might have taken away from dancing with Collin. "I'll beat him up later for you?" He offered, and I smiled up at him, swatting my hand at him.

"I'll just squish him at quidditch practice tomorrow," I said in what I hoped sounded like a normal voice. Louis just grinned back, dropping his arm from around my shoulders. "So, birthday boy, what's next on the agenda?" I asked him, and he raised his eyebrows. He glanced around, evidently looking for something fun to do, but then he turned back to me and grinned again.

"Let's ditch--I want some of my birthday cake." I nodded, swallowing and then forcing a smile. Louis seemed to appreciate the effort because he moved his arm back around my shoulders and we walked towards the entrance of the large room. And then that complete retard Gallagher decided to come and make me feel worse.

"Aww, Weasley and Finnigan," Gallagher said snarkily as he slipped between us and the door, stopping me, and I just glared at him. "The Bloodtraitor and the Mudblood. So perfect together."

"I am _not_ a bloodtraitor." Louis said angily, removing his arm from around my shoulders and shoving Gallagher back: Brian fell back a few steps, but stayed standing. "And she's not a mudblood." He blushed hastily, the red color staining his pale skin easily as he continued, addressing Gallagher's third comment. "And we aren't _together_."

"Touchy touchy, Weasley," Gallagher said easily, shrugging with a smirk that was beginning to make me want to kill him. "A little too defensive, I think."

"What the bloody hell do you want?" I demanded angrily as I stepped up beside Louis, crossing my arms over my chest. I narrowed my eyes and flipped my hair over my shoulder.

"Just to say happy birthday and to warn you that the game next Saturday is going to be..." Gallagher smirked. "Interesting."

"You're such a big idiot that I think you actually believe that sounded threatening instead of just ridiculously stupid." I raised my eyebrows patronizingly as I spoke, smirking. "You're miserable at threatening, and worse, you're so pathetic that instead of spending tonight all alone, you thought you could come be annoying to us, when really, you're nothing." Louis laughed appreciately beside me, and Brian just smirked.

"At least my parents don't think I'm nothing." He murmured to me, beginning to walk past me and hitting my shoulder with his. I saw red.

"Don't _talk_ about my parents!" I hissed at him, turnning around and grabbing his shirt, turning him back around to face me.

"I don't have to." Gallagher hissed back, smirking. "Because yours don't care enough about you to respond to your letters or tell them about their new _job_--" Brian was still sneering, and I don't know what made me, but the next thing I knew, I was slapping him, loud and hard, and Louis pulled me back a step as Gallagher stood there, shocked.

"How do you even _know about that_?" I demanded angrily, and I saw guilt and shock and remorse flit over Gallagher's face, but somehow I was pretty sure it wasn't because he was sorry for saying what he had. "Brian! Answer me!" I fisted my hands in his shirt and brought him closer to me, even as Louis glanced frantically around. "I haven't told you, I know sure as hell that my brother didn't tell you--_who the hell told you about my parents_?" By now we were capturing attention, but Louis grabbed my arm. I saw Wes watching us, his eyes narrowed, and Alec was watching us too--as were Teddy, Selma and Grace. Brian just jerked away, though, and Louis pulled me back another few steps, throwing a piercing glare at Gallagher.

"Stay the hell away from us." Louis growled at him, and I turned my back on Gallagher, and Louis put a hand on my back. We pushed through the crowd, ignoring the looks we were getting. Louis and I emerged into the hall, my arms crossed across my chest nervously, and we stumbled past the kids who were just chatting outside the party.

"How would he possibly know that?" I demanded of Louis, glancing at him, my gaze flashing. "He's not a friend--at all. He doesn't have any siblings at the school, Wes didn't tell _anyone_ I don't think and I trust you and James." I ran a frantic hand through my hair and then I slowed down--my walking, my breathing, everything. I took a few deep breaths, letting myself calm down before I looked at my best friend, sighing. "Thanks for not letting me stay there long enough to get caught."

"It's fine." Louis murmured, shoving his hands in his pockets as we fell easily into step together, walking without an aim. We were quiet for a moment before he sighed. "I wish I could have hit him myself, though. He's just a pain in the ass." He frowned at me disapprovingly, but I knew he wasn't disapproving of me. "I hate that he gives you a hard time because of James and me though."

"Yeah, you and everybody else." I said quietly. "Victoire, James and Teddy told me the same thing." Louis raised his eyebrows.

"I knew James feels pretty bad about it--I didn't know Vicky and Ted knew, though." He said quietly. "Though since they're dating, I s'pose that automatically makes it so that if one of them knows, the other does too." He pulled a face.

"Don't like that they're dating?" I guessed, and he shrugged, looking up at the ceiling of the hallway.

"I liked Teddy more when I didn't have to worry about him hurting Vicky." He said after a second, and I stared at him for a second--he was being _seriously_ open with me, and I didn't want to screw this up--before I nodded slowly.

"I get that--but Victoire's pretty capable of taking care of herself." I murmured, then chuckled. "And everybody else, if we'd let her."

"I know, I know." Louis sounded tired. "But I have another sister--Dominique, she'd be fourth year with Wes, if she were here--and I... can't protect her from stuff. She's got issues that are so much bigger than me, and my _parents_ can't even fix her." He swallowed, looking back down at me. I felt a sudden sympathy for Louis and Victoire and their parents--whatever issues meant, it was obviously messing with the family dynamic. "Domi fell off a broom when she was six, I must have been, well, like three, which would have made Vicky about seven, I guess, and she hit her head pretty hard." Louis took a deep breath. "She's been mentally disabled ever since." The sympathy I'd felt for the Weasleys quadrupled. That poor little girl, poor Louis, poor Victoire and poor Mr and Mrs. Weasley.

"That's awful, I'm sorry." I murmured. Louis nodded, pursing his lips then dropping his chin to his chest, watching the ground as we walked.

"Yeah, it's pretty sucky." Louis agreed under his breath, and he sighed. "She's got the same birthday as me. She's fifteen today."

"You send her a card?" I asked quietly, and he nodded.

"Yeah, me and Vick went up to the owlery this morning, before breakfast, sent her a pretty nice card." His mouth twitched into a half smile. "My mom owled us back at lunch, said she read her the card and Domi loved it." Louis bit his lip and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, unfolding it and handing it to me.

It was a child-like drawing, looking like it was by a four-year-old, of three kids, all of them blonde and blue eyed, holding hands in front of a house, but the people were drawn as a small child might, with crayon and sloppily. The house was the traditional house that all little kids drew, that probably didn't look anything like Louis's home. Someone, not Domi, had written in neat script: _Happy Birthday, Louis! Love Mummy, Daddy and Dominique_. My heart broke, but I glanced back up at Louis with a shaky smile.

"This is really, really nice." I told him softly.

"Yeah." Louis agreed with a soft smile as I handed him back the picture. He blushed suddenly, tucking the picture back in his pocket as we continued to walk, before realizing we were at the portrait hole. I murmured the password, and we walked into the empty common room. Well, almost empty.

James was sitting in the arm chair by the fire, looking incredibly apologetic, a birthday cake on the table in front of him. He glanced up at us hopefully, then stood awkwardly. We stood there in silence before Louis glanced at me, then grinned at James. The silent message was clear: we were forgiving James for being a jerk for three seconds.

"Sera just slapped Gallagher." He told his cousin after a second, and James grinned back at the two of us. I rolled my eyes.

"What?" James demanded, sounding too excited.

"I'll tell you later." I told him, smiling a little as I crossed to him. "First, I think we do have to wish Louis a happy birthday." I stole the box of candles from James's hand, grinning playfully at him while I stuck them in the cake, then reached into my pocket and waved my wand over them. They lit brightly, instantly, and then I glanced at James, nodding a little, and Louis came to stand in front of his, his hands in his pockets, looking sort of adorably impressed.

"Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday Dear Louis..."


	12. Papa Don't Preach

"This is ridiculous." James murmured in my ear as we stood side by side in one of the two Teams' entrance ways to the Quidditch Pitch. The wind was howling and whistling, and the rain was practically sideways, at this point, in addition to it being about thirty degrees out despite the fact that it was only mid-November. Of course, it didn't appear that anyone had bothered to tell the sky that.

I shivered, and James glanced at me then put his arm around my shoulders, rubbing my other arm in an effort to warm me up, looking concerned as he did. "You okay?" He asked me, his voice quiet and not reflecting the tenderness his actions were. I forced a reassuring smile at him, and it didn't escape me that his forehead crinkled as he realized that it was indeed meant to help him more than me. I leaned my head against his shoulder and he pressed his cheek against the top of my head.

"Yeah--just tired." I admitted, scrubbing at my face with my hand. "I was up super late with Louis last night doing that Transfiguration assignment--the _five rolls of parchment_ essay we have to turn in tomorrow." I sighed softly. "I am not doing well enough in Transfiguration: this one needed to be really good, especially since I really did understand this concept."

"Eh, yeah, that." James said noncommittally, his voice hesitant, and I pulled away to glare at him suspiciously. Half of being friends with James was learning to translate what wasn't being said. "Okay, I haven't started it." He admitted before I could accuse him, and I considered scolding him before I sniggered. He had a mom to scold him about grades, as well as an extensive extended family. I didn't have to.

"You're so in for it." I told him charmingly, and he rolled his eyes but grinned at me. "Good Luck; you'll need it."

"Unlike some people, I'm actually _good_ at Transfiguration." James shot back, and my mouth dropped open at the wicked grin on his face, and he turned to face the front. I hesitated before grinning hugely and punching his shoulder, something I'd done a thousand times before, but hadn't had the chance to in at least a week. James turned to me, already preparing to launch into a monologue about how abusive I was before Teddy turned back to us, shushing us angrily.

"We're flying out in three seconds, _shut up_." Teddy hissed. Wes elbowed Teddy beside him, glaring at him, and Teddy rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Finnigan, I know she's your sister but you don't need to protect her every step she takes." Teddy's irritation was evident, and James and I traded looks.

Wes had been somewhat-sweetly-but-mostly-annoyingly protective since we'd met with Longbottom in his office regarding our parents' sudden not-disappearance. Even Alec had stopped his pretending-to-be-badass exterior recently, which I assumed was the result of a letter from his parents, explaining how ridiculous this situation was, how Wes and I had no home other than good ole Hogwarts while Mum and Dad were almost disappeared. We actually, literally, had no guardian or home. Because, as Dean and Monica had explained it irritatedly, without them being _officially_ missing, the Ministry of Magic couldn't take Wesley and Serafina Finnigan and place them in the care of their godparents or nearest relatives. And apparently Dean had, like, everyone in the auror department working on getting Mum and Dad out of whatever they were working on enough to spend the holidays with us, or at least place us (legally) in the temporary care of Dean and Monica. But evidently there were a lot of special top-secret stuff going on. Which meant a bunch of things: we might be in a safehouse over the holidays. Or with the Potters, under special protection, as evidently we Finnigans were an endangered species. Or with some random auror, just for the hell of it. Or with Dean and Monica. Or with my Dad's crazy cousin Fergus and his family. Or Mum's brother's family who were actually all muggles and thought we were weird, for all that they were indeed nice to us.

"Doors are opening, thing one and thing two. Quit it." Selma ordered, and as the wooden doors before us swung open automatically, we mounted our brooms in unison, and I couldn't help but smile a little bit at how cool it felt to be a first year and actually _starting_ in a game, feeling like an actual contributing member of the team. Then I shuddered with cold and the feeling was lost: it was super duper cold. First Wes, Teddy and Selma, then Grace and Nelly, then James and I, kicked off the ground and moved onto the field. Almost immediately, I realized I'd have to lean right almost the entire time: the wind was literally stronger than my broom, at some points, and James had to grab my arm to keep me a little upright, at the bgeinning.

I veered upward and forward, towards the middle of the field and trying to cling to my broom despite the fact that I was, by far, the scrawniest child on this field. I was already soaked, my hair in rats' tails as Grace, Nelly and I hovered behind the Slytherin Keeper, who was going to go up for the quaffle with Teddy. Professor Wood hovered shakily beside the boys, and said something quietly to them, raising a hand in what was pretty obviously a warning to the teams to play safe. We all smiled cheekily at her, and the wind whistled extra loudly as if to contradict us, but the blond-haired woman just rolled her eyes before she threw the quaffle into the air.

"And...they're off! Lupin takes the quaffle for Gryffindor and is going down the field...oh, oh _oh_, First Year Slytherin Gallagher smacks that ball _dayum _hard--that was a messy shot, no where near your intended--and I spoke too soon." Eric said quickly as a bludger bounced easily off Elias Landau's bat as he hastily tried to block the shot that he hadn't seen coming. It still glanced his hand, though, and he winced, shaking out his hand. I winced in sympathy, shooting Teddy a look, a warning: Elias wouldn't be able to play if he had a broken hand, and getting smacked with a bludger tended to do stuff like that. "C'mon Potter, get in there and fight off Gallagher's misshots--not, of course, that I had _any bias at all, _Headmistress." Duane's brother continued, and I grinned to myself, shooting forward as Teddy fell back towards his proper spot at the goalposts. I swerved under the Slytherin Chasers who were hastily following Nelly and caught the ball as she dropped it down to me, and Grace skidded to a stop above me, blocking any swoopers. I slammed closer to my broom to increase the speed and got closer to the goalposts--and then I scored the first goal of the game.

I grinned hugely as I wheeled away from the goalposts, ignoring the dirty looks I was getting from the Slytherin kids as Eric went off on some obviously-pro-Gryffindor speech as to how that was a _beautiful_ undercut by me. James grinned at me across the field, and Selma skidded up next to me on the field to ruffle my hair, and I shot her a mock-glare. I'd gotten the first goal of the game.

And then a bludger smacked straight into the stick of Wes's broom stick, effectively cracking it and making my stomach hurt with anxiety.

The sound was muffled by a sudden thunder boom, but it was still alarmingly loud, and Wes tightened his hold on the broom stick, looking alarmed. It was already starting to freak out: it was swerving a little, and, worryingly, rising a little bit with each second. The broom was magical--if you took a crack at it, it broke pretty seriously. It was like a wand, in that respect: it was way too serious to play around with.

"Selma, _catch the frigging snitch_!" Teddy roared as he realized that our seeker was watching my brother instead of paying attention to the game, and Selma recovered almost instantly, taking off in the direction of the small gold glint that we'd suddenly all spotted by the Ravenclaw section of the crowd. I would have deemed Teddy an insensitive jerk for doing that, but I knew exactly what he was thinking of: the last game against Slytherin, we'd lost because Selma was a tad easily distracted. Teddy had already reemed her out for it, but I knew that he wasn't getting over it anytime soon.

"Finnigan's broom is... broken." Eric said uncertainly into the microphone, and my heart dropped to my stomach, as I glanced at the teacher's tower, where the adults were beginning to stand, their gazes transfixed on my brother as they pulled out their wands, uncertain of what they were supposed to do. They didn't want to hit Wes with a spell they sent at his broom--and the way that this thing was jerking around already meant that there was no way in hell anyone would get a solid fix on Wes. "He's gonna need some help." Oh, Merlin. Was this another attack on my family, or just a coincidence? "Who hit that bludger at him?" No one claimed it, but as the bludger that had hit Wes before abruptly changed direction to come speeding towards him again, we got our answer. The bludger had changed direction completely independently of anyone hitting it. The bludger was spelled to (slightly more subtly than last time) attack Wes.

"Time out!" Wood practically screamed, tearing upwards as Wes's broom tore upwards suddenly, taking him into the low cloud cover, and James came to hover beside me, looking nervous. Wood spelled the bludger to the ground, trapping it against the mud with a shield spell, and the bludger sped up within the bubble, angrily bouncing off the sides. It would have been almost amusing had I not been living in utter fear of what was about to happen.

"Oh, God." I murmured under my breath, and James hesitated before reaching over to squeeze my shoulder comfortingly. "What the hell is going on?" I demanded softly. James glanced around, looking for an naswer, and when he didn't come up with one, he just patted my shoulder again. Selma stopped beside me, looking really worried as her gaze flicked between where Wes had disappeared and myself.

"I don't think anybody knows." Selma told me in her best be-nice-to-my-friend's-little-sister voice. I didn't even move my gaze from where Wes had disappeared however, and Teddy drifted towards the spot nervously, as the crowd around us fell silent. Aside from the thrashing rain, there was no noise, even my heartbeat seemed to have silenced despite the fact that it was pounding.

"Jamie... you don't think..." My voice drifted off into an anxious silence as I left James to pick up the rest of what I'd said: I had told him about the parents being disappeared thing. I also didn't want to elaborate, since Selma was sitting right here. "I mean, it would be--_no_!" The last word came out as a scream as Wes came out of the clouds, having fallen, and plummetting to the ground. Selma, Teddy, James, Grace, Nelly and I converged on where Wes was falling, but it was Teddy who caught him, pulling him onto his broom in one quick movement. "Wes, oh my god," I said in a fast voice as I skidded to a stop beside my brother and quidditch captain. "Oh, Holy..." My voice drifted into silence as I pulled myself dangerously close to Teddy's broom to inspect the damage.

Wes's hands were bleeding, and he looked sort of dazed: there was a bump that was already swelling on his forehead. The bump had a wide cut on it, surrounded by small colorful dots that I could already tell would be one hell of a bruise. Wes swayed a bit and I grabbed Teddy's broom to steady it while my quidditch captain tried to support my brother, throwing Eli a panicked glance as the boy struggled to help. But Elias's hand was shattered, or at least really broken: it was swollen and deformed looking. His face was twisted with pain.

There were officially two players on this field in need of medical attention.

"We need a stretcher!" Teddy roared as I tilted the tip of his broom towards the ground, slowly. I had to lower the broom--or _someone_ did--while Teddy kept Wes from teetering off. We fell a few feet very slowly before there was a sudden, faster, decline, and I stopped the broom with a jolt, causing Teddy and Wes to wince, despite the fact that I was pretty sure that Wes had no idea where the hell he was nor who we were or what was going on.

"Sorry," I murmured, and the teachers below us were spilling onto the field. I saw a sparkle in the air below us: someone had raised a spell to cushion our fall, should it occur. Well, that was good. "Hey, Wes--Wes, c'mon, don't fall alseep." I murmured as Wes's eyes began to flutter. I shot Teddy a panicked look, but Teddy wasn't really the epitome of calm himself: his eyes were wide, and he was glancing around, looking for a teacher. "Wesley Dean Finnigan, I am going to _kick your ass _if you pass out, do you understand me?" I said, suddenly angry, and Wes's dazed eyes widened as we lowered to the ground more slowly. He blinked.

"Language, Sera." He murmured, his voice not filled with usual fire it was, but still immensely relieving. Selma and I laughed almost tearfully with our relief, and as we hit the ground, Teddy dropped his broom as Selma did. Selma put one arm around Wes's shoulders, supporting him, and the rest of the Gryffindor reserve team spilled onto the field, surrounding us with the teachers. Teddy supported the other side of Wes and I fluttered nervously around him, and James realized I was sort of losing my mind. He put his arm around my shoulders and I just stood there, my hand clapped over my mouth, as I stared on in horror as Wes passed out as Longbottom conjured a stretcher frantically. Selma, I realized, was holding Wes's hand, and as Teddy lifted Wes onto it, Longbottom glanced at James and I and waved Professor Rostov on with the stretcher as he fell back with Selma to talk to us.

"Sera, are you hurt?" Longbottom asked me seriously, and I shook my head, not moving my gaze from Wes. James's arm dropped from around my shoulders and he not-so-subtly elbowed my ribs. I jumped, throwing him an angry glare before I looked back at Professor Longbototm.

"No, sir." I murmured, and Longbottom nodded, straightening up and running a frantic hand through his hair.

"Alright then..." He pressed his lips together tightly. "James, Sera, Selma, Teddy--go up to Gryffindor tower and get changed out of those clothes, you must be frozen." He scrubbed at his face while I glanced behind me to spot Teddy. "Then Sera, go to the hospital wing--Dean and Monica'll be there. Bring Alec Thomas, too, please." He ushered us forward, back to the castle, and I glanced back as I heard Professor Wood make an announcement for everyone to stay in the stands, if only for a few moments. "Oh, dear, he's still in the crowd--Sera, go get him." He told me, waving me back, and I pushed my broom at James, who caught it easily, and I turned back to the pitch, sprinting back to the pitch. I turned up the stairs and took them two at the time, then pushed open the door to the Gryffindor seats.

Everyone looked up at me, shocked, as I pushed through the rows and rows of kids, to where Alec was standing with his friends, looking slightly panicked. I stumbled into him and he caught me, and I scrubbed at my face.

"C'mon, we've gotta go back to the castle." I told him, and Alec took one look at me before he nodded shakily.

"What's going on?" He demanded as I grabbed his wrist and began to drag him back through the kids, feeling a little insane. I must have looked it, too: I felt like I was going to cry, and I was soaked through, and shivering. "Sera! How's Wes?" He demanded.

"I don't know," I said, my voice frantic. I kept it quiet, though: I didn't want to broadcast what was going on, and the storm had died down. "I don't know--Longbottom told me to get you, go back to Gryffindor tower, change, then go to the hospital wing--Wes's out cold," I told him, my voice too fast for my brain to organize my thoughts: they just sort of spilled out of my mouth. "Your parents are coming."

"Okay, Ser," Alec said softly as we reached the staircase, holding my shoulders and stopping me as we reached a landing on the staircase. "You need to take a deep breath. Wes's head looked nasty, yes--but lots of people take a bang to the head and are okay." I blinked at him, shoving my tears at bay. Alec was right. I was acting like a four-year-old. That said, you're allowed be freaked out." He paused, taking a deep breath and looking me straight in the eye, proving his trustworthiness: I smiled wetly back at him. "Okay, c'mon." He murmured finally, and we took off back down the stairs, still running full speed, but not frantic.

We caught up with James, Selma and Teddy, and I slammed back into my best friend with a fast hug for holding my broom. "Thanks!" I murmured to him, hugging him tightly with one arm, before pulling away as fast as I'd crashed into him. James grinned at me, half-heartedly, but it helped, and I grinned back, back pedaling a little as I did.

"C'mon, Ser!" Alec ordered, calling back as he ran ahead, and I turned and fell into a steady sprint with my godbrother. Alec's reasoning was really, probably very true--Wes was probably going to be just fine and whining and protective and wonderfully lucid in just a few hours. But still. I'd gotten a decent scare watching him fall. No wonder he'd been in such a godawful mood when I'd woken up from my bludger incident. Watching your sibling fall from their broom was actually pretty damn alarming.

Alec and I skipped the first part of Professor Longbottom's instructions, and went straight to the Hospital Wing, tearing through the entryway beneath the big clock and darting up the back staircase there. Alec and I caught the door as it closed behind Wes and his sudden escort of teachers.

"Miss Finnigan," the Headmistress sighed as I entered, sopping wet as ever, rolling her eyes, and I grinned sheepishly at her, then stepped up beside Wes's bed. The left side of Wes's face was coated with blood, and Alec put his arm around my shoulders. "Miss Finnigan, you're no help to your brother hypothermic..." She told me softly, stepping up beside me, and I just bit my lip.

"I'm fine--I'll even dry myself off if you want--I just want to stay with Wes." I was being as polite as I could, but I knew I was disobeying a kind gesture from by far the iciest Hogwarts head in the history of the school, which was probably ruining my record with her forever.

Suddenly someone was hugging me tightly, and I hugged Dean back, as soon as I realized what was happening. "Dean! Thank you so much for coming..." I said quickly, and Dean straightened up and pulled his son against him in a one armed hug, pressing a kiss to the top of the boy's head. Alec blushed hastily, and I mustered a dampened grin at him, and he just shoved my shoulder.

"Of course I came, angel," Dean said with a snort, as if the very concept that he wasn't at my constant beck and call was ludicrous. Dean pulled me against him with his other arm before he caught sight of Wes, and released Alec and me both. Madame Pomfrey was sealing the cut, but he still looked pretty nasty. "Okay, Parvati." Dean said quietly, and I swallowed: his voice held badly-concealed anger, and I raised my eyebrows. Dean wasn't usually the type of Dad to pull the anger card--he usually said he was "disappointed," or something. My own father was more of the shouter. "This is the second time my goddaughter and godson have been hurt at your school, on your quidditch pitch, by your bludgers. Without someone swinging the bat at the bludger." Dean's anger was palpable, now.

"Dean, I don't know what to tell you," the Headmistress began softly, looking nervous for the first time since I'd started at Hogwarts. She sounded genuinely panicky--what precautions had they taken against Wes and I being hurt that had to be broken for this to occur? "We've checked the balls several times, the kids aren't unsupervised at any point, really, the balls are kept under lock and key when not on the pitch. I don't know what to tell you." Her voice had become a pathetic repeat, and Dean looked seriously dissatisfied with the response, unsurprisingly.

"That is not--" He began.

"Dean, stop it." Monica snapped as she came out of the Infirmary office, trailed by my head of house. Longbottom's face was sort of steely, and I swallowed, getting that feeling in the pit of my stomach that bloomed when I felt guilty. Why would I feel guilty, though? It's not like it was _my _fault these stupid quidditch balls had taken a particular liking to beating the crap out of Finnigan relatives. "It's not like anyone has any idea who's gone after Wes and Sera, leave the headmistress alone." Her words and tone were harsh, but she placed a careful hand on Dean's arm. "You can't protect them when you don't know the enemy." She murmured to my godfather, and I turned away from what sounded like a private moment, meeting Alec's equally uncomfortable gaze. Then I felt one of her small hands rest on my shoulder, and she kissed my cheek. "Hi Sera." She said softly. "How are you, sweetheart?" She asked me, tenderly smoothing down my hair, and I smiled shakily at her.

"I'm okay..." I murmured uncommitally, and she nodded, looking at me seriously with narrowed eyes, before nodding decisively and looking down at my brother. She smoothed down his hair as well, looking up at Madame Pomfrey and Professor Longbottom, who were both standing on the other side of the bed.

"Poppy?" She asked softly. "How bad is he?"

"His head took a solid knock." The older woman acknowledged. "And he had a severe concussion, which I've fixed off, but I'm going to allow him to sleep it off." She looked pointedly at me. "Which means he'll be fine. And probably out cold until tomorrow, sometime--it's hard to tell exactly when." I nodded, flashing her a greatful smile and wondering, internally, what hell the next twenty four or so hours would be. Waiting for Wes to wake up was going to be hard.

"That's... good, right? I mean... yeah, he'll be okay." I murmured, and Alec looked as his mother squeezed my shoulder sympathetically.

"Sera, angel, we need to talk." Monica murmured, and I glanced up at her. "Can we go into Pop--Madame Pomfrey's office for a moment?" I felt my heart drop. This wasn't good.

"Uh," I glanced at Alec, looking for an answer to my unspoken question--what was going on--but he seemed as clueless as I did, so I nodded. As Dean stood up, Monica led the way to Madame Pomfrey's office. Dean followed us in there, and gestured to Alec, who was perched unsurely on the edge of his seat, to remain seated. And then shut the door firmly behind us. Ah. So this was something to do with only the Finnigans.

"Sweetheart, please sit." Monica murmured, and I shook my head slowly.

"I'm okay, thank you." I said, my voice solemn. Had my parents been found? Why were Monica and Dean acting so weirdly?

"Sweetheart--look, I know you're going to object to what I have to say." Dean was speaking now, and Monica looked like she was becoming increasingly nervous. Dean's face was torn in anguish, and I crossed my arms defensively over my chest. "But hear me out and listen to our reasons before you object." He paused, seeming to collect his courage. "Monica and I--We've thought this through, and decided, before this incident, that we should consider taking you--you and Wes, that is--off the quidditch team, and asking the school to void Wes's Hogsmeade pass." Dean's voice was slow and measured: he was trying to relay the faith he had in this course of action to me. "We'd also forbid you from walking around the school grounds without supervision."

"_What?!" _I demanded, my arms dropping to my sides. "Dean, Monica--I can't--"

"Sera," Monica's tone was lightly reprimanding, but I didn't care that I was being rude.

"No!" I protested, feeling oddly teary. This was getting ridiculous--I was turning into a steady waterworks type of girl. "No--I am the _only_ first-year girl on a quidditch team, and I _love_ it! It's fun and sure it's hard but I was a starting chaser today! I, a first-year, was a starting chaser!" I was frantic to explain why this was important, but the certain look on Dean's face told me that I was far out of my element. "And don't take Wes's Hogsmeade pass away because I was an idiot and snuck out!"

"That is not why we're taking it away." Dean interupted, holding up a hand to stop my steady stream of words. "And you know that, Sera. And we aren't stopping you two from playing quidditch because we're sadists." Dean's voice would have been convincing, on any other day. But I was angry and stressed and filled to the brim with a truckload of adrenaline. "It's no longer safe for you guys to participate in these activities and your safety comes first, Sera. Before everything else." Dean raised his eyebrows. "Your mum and dad made us your godparents to look out for you when they couldn't."

"Dean, you think hiding us will help?" I demanded angrily. "You think stuffing Wes and I farther into Gryffindor will help save us from whatever the hell's trying to hurt us--whatever the hell tried to hut Mum and Dad?" I ran a hand through my hair, a nervous gesture. "No, it's just going to make Wes and me feel _more_ trapped and _more_ stressed, and we're already trying to deal with the fact that our parents are freaking _missing_ but it's not a publicly recognized _fact_ because the Ministry of Magic is too worried about whatever the hell they're doing to be concerned with the wellfare of their kids!" I wasn't quite shouting, but my voice was definitely loud enough to warrant some sort of punishment. "And by the way--whatever's trying to hurt us will just hit closer to home next time instead of waiting until Wes and I are actually in the path of danger." I swallowed angrily, falling silent suddenly.

"First off, Sera, do not _yell_ at us." Monica said seriously, and I just met her gaze defiantly. "And second, we are trying our hardest to _protect_ you. It may just provoke a stronger attack next time, but we can't do _nothing_. And we are trying our hardest to get this settled with the Ministry of Magic or at least contact your parents through their handler." Monica's calm voice was actually kind of driving me crazy--she was too reasonable. "I am sorry that this has turned out the way it has--no one's saying this is easy. But we are saying that this has got to be the way we do this because we can't just let whomever try to attack you without taking further precautionary steps." I felt a few hot tears burn down my face as I glared at my godmother and godfather.

"You are punishing me and Wes in your quest to protect us." I said in a tight voice, after a few moments of silence.

"You know that's not--" Dean protested angrily.

"How?" I demanded. "How, Dean? How do I know that when I don't actually have a home, or a family except for a fourteen-year-old brother who's kind of _unconscious _after someone tried to kill him and _your_ son who so far is the only one of you three being honest?! I can't take anything at face value anymore, and I don't think you're telling me everything so I can't trust you!" I told him angrily. I was officially shouting now, but it didn't matter: my words were more important, to everyone involved.

Dean and Monica's subsequent silence was enough of an answer to my accusation.

But the fact of it was, I hadn't actually considered the weight of it until I'd actually said the words. I mean, it hadn't made sense to me--people can't just leave on 'business trips' with the Ministry of Magic, of all things, without talking to their children, making just-in-case plans with certain people. And the Ministry of Magic would never cut off all communication between someone and their children once it became apparent that their children had not been warned or prepared for their parents sudden 'disappearance'. No one supervising some sort of undercover thing would ever not keep ridiculously close tabs on someone.

I pushed past them to the door, ripping it open and sprinting out of the hospital wing. As I tore open the heavy hospital wing door, Alec rose from his chair to follow me, throwing an angry glare back at his parents, and I ignored him, taking off towards the Gryffindor Common Room. Alec waited until I'd rounded a corner, however, before he grabbed my arm and spun me around, effectively stopping me in my tracks.

"Sera," He began quietly, his voice fast. "I understand you're pissed, and you have every right to be, but if you run into the common room at top speed and straight up to your dorm like I think you're going to, everyone's going to assume that Wes's dead, or something. And I'm not ready to handle that arising, so calm down and then we'll go back to the Common Room." Alec's words were fired off like bullets, and I blinked once before nodding my understanding, taking a deep breath. Alec was right. I was being a little selfish (he hadn't really _said_ that, but I was, and I could sort of tell he was thinking that). Selma was obviously freaking out about this. And Alec loved my parents just like I loved Monica and Dean, despite the fact that they were lying through their teeth to me about 100% of the time. And Teddy was probably in a state of panic that would only be furthered by his hearing that Wes and I were banned from quidditch until further notice.

A few deep, cleansing breaths and five minutes later, Alec finally released my arm, studying me. "So what the hell did Mum and Dad say to you?" He demanded.

"Wes and I aren't allowed to do quidditch, Wes isn't allowed in Hogsmeade anymore, and neither of us are allowed outside the physical castle unsupervised." I summarized, and Alec's jaw dropped.

"_What_?" He demanded.

"Yeah, I know." I said uncomfortably, crossing my arms again. "It's ridiculous. Wes hasn't been attacked in Hogsmeade, and aside from the first night, neither of us have been attacked on Hogwarts grounds." I ran a hand through my hair, looking up at Alec, my eyes blazing. "I worked so damn hard to get on the team and now I get to waste it on being a cheerleader from the sidelines."

"That's crazy." Alec murmured. He paused, glancing towards the general direction of the Common Room. "Okay, kid, we can head up there, now." Alec said quietly, and as we turned towards the common room, we fell into the first common paced walk I'd had all day.

It was just a few minutes to the Common Room, and before it, Alec and I paused, preparing ourselves for the anticipated onslaught of questions. Finally I sighed. "Godric," I murmured the password, and the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open.

The entire Gryffindor Quidditch Team was sitting around the fire, looking sort of resigned and waiting, giving the room the feeling of an Emergency Room Waiting Room. The rest of the room was quieter than usual--it was rare that games were ended mid-game like it'd been. Especially for just one injury to one player: Quidditch was a violent sport, people got carried off the pitch all the time. But not after the bludgers went after them of their own accord.

Everyone looked up at me as I walked it, and I half-smiled at my teammates, crossing the common room self-consciously. "He's okay," I said as soon as I was within earshot of them, and Selma grinned with relief at me. Teddy grinned too, but my smile fell as I twisted my hands in front of me. "Um, okay, guys--" This was hard. "My godparents, after the accident with the bludgers with me, and this one--" I swallowed, and saw the dread building on Teddy's face as he realized what I was about to say. I looked at James nervously, but he just watched me expressionlessly. "They've decided Wes and I are no longer allowed to play on the quidditch team."

There was a brief silence before loud-mouthed Nelly was, predictably, the first one to break it.

"What the HELL?!" She demanded loudly, and I shrugged miserably. James's eyes widened, and as Selma turned to Teddy, exchanging a horrified expression. Duane looked immediately angered, but James just scooted over on the couch, making room for me. I sank down and put my elbows on my knees, looking at my hands tiredly.

How had my life possibly gone downhill from my parents going missing?


	13. The Middle

"Louis, what does that say?" I demanded, shoving my paper across the table to him, pointing out a specific comment that Professor Rostov had written next to my final paragraph. "And if it's really mean, please feel free to lie." Louis chuckled quietly, squinting down at the paper as he assessed it.

"This is chicken scratch--your hand-writing is _horrific_." He protested after a second, glancing at me with an irritated frown, but I just sat there--Louis did enough proof-reading for me that I wasn't really able to dispute this. He was doing me a favor. "Is this even English?" He demanded skeptically, holding it up, and I glared at him: okay, this was getting ridiculous. "Oh, wait. Okay. So… this either says 'needs more supportive evidence' or 'need to meet after class'." I winced. Neither was particularly good news. Louis glanced up at me sympathetically, his eyebrows knitting together, and I pressed my lips together in a grimace.

"Jeez." I mumbled, snatching my paper back and looking down at it despairingly, running an exhausted hand through my hair as I inspected the notes that Louis and Professor Rostov had made. "I hate Transfiguration."

It'd been three weeks since Wes had gotten beaten up by bludgers and Dean and Monica had banned us from doing pretty much everything that made Hogwarts enjoyable. And things hadn't really been getting any better: my parents were still not-really-missing, Dean and Monica were still keeping something from me and Wes, and life at Hogwarts was getting harder. The teachers were trying to get as much work out of us before the holidays started in three and a half weeks, and it was sort of running everyone into the ground. The fifth- and seventh-years were also becoming more and more frantic as they realized that the OWLs were only a few months away, which had resulted in much more drama than usual: the common room almost always contained someone breaking up or making out or screaming and crying. It had reached a new level of ridiculous, however, when Eric Jordan, Duane's older brother and the announcer person and a fifth year, had broken up with a girl and made up with her in the same day.

Anyway, this ridiculousness was sort of driving the rest of the occupants of the common room to insanity.

"Shut up! You're so mean!" Grace cried, whining but good-naturedly as she and the rest of my old quidditch team climbed into the Common Room, interrupting my thoughts. I looked up at them, then looked away, blushing heavily as I looked down at my paper, but not before I caught the pitying looks from Eli Landau, Duane Jordan, Selma, Teddy, and Grace as they fell silent. The Common Room had stopped being so much fun since most of its occupants were either staring at me and James and Louis, or because they were my ex-teammates and just stared at me pathetically. They'd been trying out kids, I knew, for a beater and a chaser.

James came and sat next to me wordlessly, the action as automatic now as it had ever been, and I turned to smile a little at him, pushing my transfiguration paper away from me. "How was practice?" I forced myself to ask with a smile, hiding my misery at not being part of the team anymore.

"Fine. A little less fun now that you and me can't make fun of Nelly anymore." James acknowledged quietly, keeping his gaze on the table, before his eyes flicked to the papers in front of me. "This your transfig essay?" He asked, shortening the long name of our class, and I rolled my eyes, nodding tiredly.

"Yeah, I got an A." I mumbled unhappily. "For acceptable." Having gone to muggle school for the first few years of my life--an experience that my mother had insisted on granting Wes and I while we tried not to kill Alec, who got laze around all day--I felt it necessary to remind myself of the grading system here--how an A here was like a B there, etc. I glared down at it. "After all the work I put into it."

"Well, that sucks." James acknowledged unhelpfully, and I shot him an irritated look. "But the good news is--drum roll please…" Louis and I traded bemused looks but didn't participate, and James waited for one of us to respond. When we continued to just watch him, he looked sort of put out and his grin dropped. "No drum roll?" He asked faux-sadly. I grinned a little at him, but flapped my hand in irritation. I wanted to know what was going on: James being this elaborate meant that he was really nervous or excited about something. If he was genuinely okay with a situation, he was more sarcastic, as a rule. "Ah, well. Anyway, I wanted to know if you wanted to spend Christmas with my family? Like Christmas break, not just Christmas Day. And Louis's family too--I mean, we spend Christmas together." James sounded a little squeakier than usual at the end of the sentence, and his gaze dropped back down to the table, and I smirked a little, but it faded as I realized how _sweet_ he was being. He'd had to have written to his parents to ask, and, at some point, he'd considered the fact that I didn't have a family, per se, to spend the holidays with. I mean, I had a brother and set of godparents and a god brother, but other than that, I was in a little bit of trouble.

"I'd love that." I admitted softly, blushing a little. Why did this feel awkward? James and Louis were my best friends. I didn't ever have to feel awkward with them. "I should talk to Wes first though, you know?" I requested, and James nodded understandingly.

"Cool." He said softly, keeping his gaze on the table. I glanced at Louis, who looked sort of resigned before he smiled hesitantly at me. I raised my eyebrows in a wordless question: did he want this too? Because I would feel weird intruding on his private holiday with his family unless he actively wanted me there. And he had a mentally disabled sister and two parents and a healthy if not entirely always nice sister who I didn't want to intrude on unless I'd been explicitly invited. I knew James only had little siblings, who were generally better with stuff like this than the older ones, but I didn't want to intrude on _them_ either. Little kids could be brats if they thought that they weren't being listened to.

But Louis shook his head, strengthening his smile and answering my silent question: I was wanted at the Weasley House. That wasn't the problem. The problem was, I would have bet a thousand galleons, that James hadn't talked to Louis about this plan before talking to me. And Louis liked to be clued in on stuff. Being out of the loop was one of his pet peeves.

"I'll, um, go check with him now, I guess." I said quietly after a few moments of silence, and stood up fast. I crossed to the couches that Wes and his friends had taken over, and I touched his shoulder, catching his attention. My brother twisted to look at me from his seat, a lazy smile on his face--he'd been chatting, happily, with his friends. That made me feel guilty. He probably wasn't going to like what I was about to ask him.

The moment he met my gaze, his entire expression shifted from the fourth-year he usually was to the big-brother one I'd seen too many times recently. Poor Wes. He must have been stressed to all get out. "Uh, Wes, can I ask you about something?" I asked him, and I recognized that my own voice was tight and high, like it was when I was upset: I wasn't upset, though. I was just bothered that I felt so awkward around my two best friends, even though they seemed to be even _more_ awkward around me.

"Course." Wes said easily, frowning a little as he raised an easy hand to his friends. He pulled me away from his group, waiting until we were standing in a corner of the room and out of earshot of everyone to talk to me. "Everything okay?" He asked me worriedly.

"Oh, yeah, everything's fine," I said in my most convincing voice, flashing him a distracting grin, but Wes's expression remained unimpressed. He was good at seeing through that stuff. "Just--Jamesie and Louis just invited me to Christmas with them…and I want to go." I chewed on my lip, watching my older brother carefully. "And normally I'd ask Mum and Dad," I continued nervously. "But they're obviously not an option. And Dean and Monica…aren't you, and we're fighting with them anyway. And I mean, it's our first Christmas without home and Mum and Dad and all that. So." I shifted from one foot to another. "I wanted to ask your permission. To go. And tell you that it's okay to say no because I know that there's a bunch of stuff going on right now and the last thing I want is to make your life harder or destroy the Christmas spirit or something by not spending the holiday with my family."

Wes looked at me for a long moment, before he smiled, looking bemused, as he pulled me into a tight hug. I hugged him back, squeezing my eyes shut and enjoying the feeling that I wasn't the only Finnigan left on the face of the earth, which it was beginning to feel like these days. Wes hugged me for a few seconds longer before he released me, putting his hands on my shoulders and looking down at me solemnly, and I wondered for a moment if he'd always looked so mature. Sure, he looked more tired than usual--the circles under his eyes were bigger, revealing his fatigue--but he'd been acting like a really great big brother recently. He and I used to fight like cats and dogs, and now we were just sort of always nice to each other and he was protective and I worried… stuff had changed a lot, since we'd left home. Mostly for the worse; but Wes and me had gotten closer--that was good, right?

"Ser, kiddo." He said quietly. "First off, thanks for asking my permission. You didn't have to, and you did, and that makes me feel a lot better about this working out." He grinned. "Second, of course you can go." His grin dropped as he continued, his voice sounding more serious, and I could tell he was really intent about getting this particular point across. "And third, you don't make my life harder." He told me seriously. "You're my sister. I think you're annoying as all hell, sometimes, but you don't make my life harder."

"Thanks," I murmured, touched and smiling a little.

"This also works out _great_ because Devon invited me to his house for the holidays and I told him 'no' because I didn't want to ditch you with Dean and Monica, especially now that they've decided to be incredibly annoying." Wes continued, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and walking me back to where James and Louis were still sitting, watching us with rapt attention. "Talk to Alec, though, will you?" He asked me, his voice already slightly scolding, and I felt a surge of affection for my non-present father--Wes sounded _exactly like Dad_. "I know us and Dean and Monica aren't exactly getting along, but Alec's with us on this one, Ser. At least talk to him." I nodded.

"Thanks, Dad." I said with a sly grin, and Wes rolled his eyes, chuckling and shoving me a little. I rolled my eyes as sank back down between James and Louis, and Wes put his hands on the table, looking straight at James and Louis, both of whom looked mildly intimidated.

"Okay, James? Have your parents owl me to make sure this is on the up-and-up." He ordered, sounding very much like a parent, and I grinned a little, shyly pleased that I had _someone_ doing something that resembled looking out for my best interests. "Deal?"

"Yes." James said with a pleased grin, realizing that this meant, and I grinned at him, throwing my arms around him to hug him tightly and grinning brightly.

"Thank you!" I squeaked in his ear, and he just hugged me back.

Finally, something good was happening.

---

"We're ten minutes from the station, guys, get cleaned up." A Gryffindor prefect told us with a tight smile as he poked his head in. "Make sure you've got everything you came on board with--chances are you won't get it back if you leave it here." I nodded at the familiar warning, but the boy had already moved on, and I looked back at James, Louis and Rory, who I was sharing the compartment with.

"Guess we have to wrap this up, then?" I said regretfully, looking down at the exploding snap game I'd been winning. I'd won every single game we'd played--fourteen rounds of exploding snap to me, which had granted me ownership of four chocolate frogs, three pumpkin pasties, and a tiny figurine of Victor Krum, the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team Coach.

"Thank God." Rory muttered, throwing down his cards, and I grinned charmingly at him.

"I have _nothing_ left to bet." Louis said in disbelief, staring at me. "This is insane, Sera."

"You cheated." James accused suspiciously, but I knew he wasn't serious: all the same, though, I shot him a glare. James was studying me, trying to interpret what the glare meant, but I just kept it up. "I've not lost at exploding snap in two and a half years--and then it was to Teddy, who isn't above cheating and I was, like, nine at the time." He sounded genuinely irritated, and I couldn't help but smirk. I'd orginally planned not to rub his face in it, but when James was playing into that whole idea so nicely... well, I couldn't resist a good temptation to rub James's face in something. I so rarely got the opportunity.

"Guess you can't say that anymore than, huh?" I asked, and James groaned, rolling his head back on his shoulders to stare at the ceiling. "Oh, lighten up." I told him cheerfully as I stood up, dropping my cards and stretching. Rory, Louis and James were staring at me as I did, and I dropped my arms from where I'd stretched them above my head, blinking as I swallowed nervously. "You guys are being weird." I said finally, blushing a little bit.

"Eh, sorry, just staring into space." Louis said with a weak smile, and James just looked away, while Rory grinned lazily at me, but stayed quiet. I looked at James and Louis more specifically, though--they were both blushing, looking nervous, and I ran a hand through my hair, frowning. Were they really reverting back to the blush, swallow and recover again?

"Gimme a hand up." Rory demanded, holding his arms out, and I raised my eyebrows. "Please?" He wheedled, and I cocked my hip out to the side, putting a hand on my hip and pretending to think about it. "Please with a cherry on top, oh mighty one?" He said after a second, his voice filled with fake awe, and I rolled my eyes, giggling a little as I grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet. I offered a hand to James and Louis both, who I hauled to their feet, and then I pulled a face.

"Gosh, Jamesie, you're so _heavy_." I teased, and my best friend slung an arm around my waist, half-tackling me into the seats behind me, and I shrieked and smacked his back as I kicked him, and he laughed.

"Only cuz you're a squirt," James teased, pinning me to the seat easily in a demonstration of this, and I struggled for a second before I fell slack and stuck my tongue out at him.

"Potter, get off her." Alec's dark voice came from the doorway of the compartment, and James leapt off me, his eyes wide, and I grinned--Alec was scary, unless you were me, and I had a good bit of amusement watching the boys' behavior around my godbrother. I stood and crossed to him, hugging him tightly, and Alec hugged me back, but I could sense the scowl he was shooting at my best friend over my shoulder. "Ser, can I talk to you in the hall?" Alec asked me quietly, his gaze dark as he pulled away, and I frowned, then nodded, glancing back at the boys with a brief smile. James looked mildly concerned, while Louis just looked bemused, trading looks with Rory, so I turned back to Alec before I remembered something.

"I'll be back in a sec, guys--Jamie, can you collect my cards?" I asked him, and he nodded, blushing suddenly. "Thanks." I flashed him a quick smile as Alec grabbed my arm and pulled me into the hallway, shutting the compartment door behind me. "Okay, creepy, what's up?" I demanded. Alec raised an eyebrow silently: his way of asking why I was calling him creepy. "You just freaked James out." I pointed out, and Alec snorted.

"Endless source of amusement for me." Alec agreed in a deadpan, and I rolled my eyes, putting my hands on my hips and waiting for him to continue. "Just wanted to give you your present." Alec muttered, looking bothered, and I smiled at him as he held up a small, sloppily-wrapped package. "And make sure you knew that even though my parents were being gits that you and I were still good, I hope." I could hear the nervousness in his voice, and tilted my head to the side before I pulled Alec back in for a hug.

"Always." I told him softly, squeezing him a little harder, and Alec pulled back, frowning down at me nervously. "You're my god brother, Alec, and Dean and Monica are still my godparents, I just…" I swallowed. "What they did hurt, but I'm not hurting you back. And I'm not trying to hurt them back." I shrugged uncomfortably. We fell silent, and my gaze fell to the package in his hands. "Okay, well now that I've boosted your self-esteem there, I want my present." I said with a brief smile, and Alec rolled his eyes but gave me his present.

I unwrapped the paper to reveal a small charm bracelet. It had a tiny wand, a tiny heart, a tiny broom and a tiny griffin hanging from the chain, and I blinked down at it: it was an incredibly good gift. This was insanely good--I wasn't sure I'd ever heard of a better present.

"Alec…" I murmured, glancing up at him. "Thank you so much!" I said, touched, as I looked up at him. He smiled a little bit, and I held it out. "Will you help me put it on?" I asked softly, and he nodded, holding out his hands: he clipped it, and I grinned at him. "Thank you, really." I repeated the sentiment, and Alec nodded.

"Yeah, Grace helped me pick it out, in the interest of full disclosure." He said honestly. "She said you'd like it." I nodded. "Good." He murmured after a minute. There was a moment's silence, and then he fell back a step. "Okay, I should be getting back." He said softly, a smile tugging at his mouth, and I pulled him into a hug again. "Have a good Christmas and owl me, okay? Cause I'll worry. You know that." Alec released me and turned away, walking off towards his compartment. I went back into my compartment with a shy smile, sinking into the corner seat and pulling my sweatshirt closer around me, curling up there. Jamie handed me my cards, and I smiled a thank you, tucking them into my pocket, and the other boys got settled, and we watched as London began to pass us by outside our window.

Twenty minutes later, James, Teddy, Louis, Victoire and I stood in Kings' Cross station, feeling a little bit stupid as we stood there with our giant trunks and no adults.

"It's Uncle Harry." Teddy said flatly.

"No!" Victoire protested, drawing her little brother against her in a one-armed hug as Louis shivered with cold. "It's totally my Dad--you've met the man, Ted, you know as well as I do that--" Teddy pressed his lips against Victoire's to silence her, and Louis squirmed uncomfortably away from Victoire, scowling at Teddy. "Unfair," Victoire complained as she pulled away, scowling, and I glanced at Louis before slinging my arms around James and Louis, and Louis chuckled.

"Hey kids," Harry Potter said pleasantly as he strode up, a frazzled grin on his face. James tore away from me to collide with his father, and Mr. Potter, seeming surprised, hugged James back, pleased. "Hey Jamie." His voice was softer now, and James pulled back to grin up at his father, then pulled away, as Teddy stepped forward. "Hey Tedderman." Teddy pulled a face as Harry said this but hugged him tightly regardless, and I considered, for a moment, that Harry was Teddy's godfather.

Just like Dean was to me.

Would this ever be something that happened with Alec, Dean, Wes and me? Were Wes and I going to become Teddy? I mean, our parents were kind of missing, and I knew from the letters I got from Dean and Monica that things were looking worse with every passing, silent, day. I also knew that this whole guardian-less state wouldn't last for long: Wes had warned me not to be surprised if it was settled well before Summer Break, if only because no one would take us in for two months and the Ministry of Magic knew that. I tried to remember Teddy's circumstances--I knew he was an orphan, and had been for a while, but I wasn't quite clear on how things had gone from there. Had he ever been in my particular state of guardian-lacking limbo?

James pulled back a few steps to stand next to Louis and me again, and he turned to me, grinning hugely. "Serafina, Louis, Vicky." Harry said with a grin to each of us as he released his godson, and I winced at my name while James laughed, hugging me against him with one arm. "Serafina," He murmured in my ear, his voice filled with humor, and I elbowed his side, glaring up at him.

"How was this semester?" Harry asked us as he guided us towards the front of the station. He looked at James hopefully, but Louis ginned at James over my head before he glanced at me.

"No!" I cried, squirming within James's suddenly strong grip, and Louis began to tickle me. "Louis!" I squealed, giggling as I broke away, running past Mr. Potter, with Louis and James hot on my heels, and then we were off.

The holidays had begun.


	14. Fight Song

A/N: Thanks to ChrisW96003 who showed how i messed this up--i'm sorry about the confusion guys! thanks again!

Fight Song

"Louis, if you don't stop snoring…" I hissed as I smashed my pillow over my face. I was lying on the ground of James Potter's room, along with Louis, Albus and Lily Potter (James's little siblings), Rose and Hugo Weasley, and James. The bed had been spelled into storage somewhere and had resulted in all six of us lying on the ground like idiots.

However, it was a necessity.

Louis's parents and Dominique were in Albus's room, because they lived in France and it was a pain in the butt for Domi to travel because of her wheel chair. And Lily's room had turned into where Vicky, Teddy, Fred, Molly, Lucy and Roxanne were all sleeping. And the master bedroom was still Mr. and Mrs. Potter's.

As it turned out, James had more relatives than I'd first thought.

Now, most of them were younger than Jamie and Louis--Fred, Molly, Lucy, Roxy, Rose and Hugo--but it was still really weird realizing that these two boys who I considered now to be my complete and total best friends had this entire life outside of Hogwarts. Especially now that I was, in effect, homeless.

"That was a great threat, Ser." James muttered back, but he kept his voice down: Lily, Hugo, Albus, Rose and Louis were all out cold. Somehow, insomnia had only struck James and me. "I'm really worried about him." James continued sarcastically, and I removed my pillow from my face to glare at the ceiling of the Potters' home.

It was our first night at the Potter home, and we--including the kids who weren't just home from Hogwarts--were exhausted. I'd never had a big family, and practically no extended family considering that Mum's muggle family members thought we were weird and Dad had one cousin Fergus who was actually the biggest creeper on the continent. So this had been a really new experience for me--about forty people who were all delighted to see me and intent on stealing any of the good desserts I'd managed to snatch before I ate it. It was, to say the least, really weird.

It'd been nine o'clock by the time the entire family had stopped trying to say hi to each other and delighting in how exciting it was to meet me, and then eleven by the time that James, Louis and I could manage to extract ourselves from the flood of people.

"So you're super excited to be up at one in the morning?" I whispered to James confused, turning my head to look at him, and James turned to me and grinned half-heartedly, his teeth white against the darkness.

"Just in a good mood." Jamie supplied, his voice quieter, and I lifted my pillow from my face to look at my friend, a small frown on my face, but mostly just because I didn't think I'd ever heard James admit to being in a good mood.

"Let's go in the hallway." I whispered back as, beside me, Lily turned over. "I don't wanna wake them up." James nodded, sitting up already, and I turned over and crawled forward, then stood

"Good plan." Jamie murmured as I opened his door a fraction, trying to not wake Hugo, who was pretty much asleep against the door. I scowled down at him, then looked back at James, who grinned, chuckling a little. "Hugh sleeps like a rock, I think we're okay." He told me gently, and I rolled my eyes, then shifted Hugo over a little with my foot, and opened the door fast, and James pushed me out the door hurriedly as Hugo began to wake up. I grinned and Jamie caught the back of my shirt to pull me back upright as I stumbled forward, but I caught myself against the banister, and Jamie grinned.

"So did you lie or did he just break character?" I demanded of James, who grinned at me as I turned to face him.

"Eh, he just woke up, no big deal." James murmured as he shrugged. "Let's hit the kitchen, I'm hungry." Jamie said after a moment, and I smirked, but nodded, following him down the steps.

"You're always hungry!" I protested softly. "How is that? Your stomach is _bottomless_." James shoved me a little as I hit the landing, and I stuck my tongue out at him, shoving him back but not hard enough to really do much. "No, seriously, James. How many people do you know who can eat every candy on the Hogwarts express, then have a dinner that rivals any meal that's ever graced the halls of _my_ house, then decide at one twenty four in the morning that they're hungry? Hmm?"

"Louis," James began, and I snorted in laughter. "Fred. Teddy. It's a guy thing." I raised my eyebrows. "No, serious--Wes. Wes eats more than anyone on the planet."

"Yeah, he's also five ten at fourteen-years-old, there. You're scrawny." I retorted, and James glared at me before he slung his arm around my shoulders, and I put my arm around his waist as we walked into the kitchen.

"Thanks for coming." James said quietly after a minute of silence, and I smiled a little uncertainly at him as I hopped up on the counter. James moved to the refrigerator and opened it, browsing his food selections.

"I'm just happy I've got somewhere to go over the holidays." I murmured back, running a hasty hand through my hair as I wondered how this conversation had gotten so serious so quickly. "I don't remember if I told you this--my house is gone." I told him softly, and judging by the way James glanced sharply back at me, I would have guessed I hadn't told him. "Like, the structure's still standing, but according to Dean and Monica, everything inside is gone." I chuckled morbidly, rubbing my arm and looking away from James. "I don't even have a home anymore. Just a brother."

"Hey," James said softly, closing the refrigerator again as he turned to face me, a small frown marring his features. His hazel gaze met mine worriedly, but I just held his gaze there. "That's not true. Louis and I are here and you know we'd kill for you." I smiled a little, swallowing at the sudden lump in my throat at these words: they were as close to _you're important to us _as I was going to get with James, and to be perfectly honest, I hadn't been sure he'd have enough self-esteem to actually say it. "And Rory and you are pretty good friends." He went on after a minute, blushing a little as he stepped beside me. "And Edie likes you, I think. She's just scared of Daisy." I chuckled at this: who _wasn't_ scared of Daisy? "No, I'm being serious, Ser."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'm just wallowing in self pity." I said softly, smiling ruefully at my best friend. "Sorry."

"It's fine." James paused, giving me a last long look. "Look, Ser, you're--I don't know if I could do what you're doing." He told me softly. "You're just…hang in there. I know this really all sucks for you but you're handling it really…well." I bit my lip with a shy smile and slid off the counter and pulled James into a tight hug and press my face into his shoulder, and he hugged me back tightly, resting his cheek on my hair.

"Thanks Jamesie." I murmured softly, and he squeezed me tightly for the last second before he released me, and he kissed my forehead as he pulled away.

I pulled back too, unwinding my arms from around the boy, grinning as I took a step back, and James smiled shyly.

"What are you two still doing up?" Teddy demanded from the doorway, and James and I turned identically scarlet as we turned guiltily to his god brother. Teddy's eyes narrowed before he grinned hugely. "You're both _scarlet_." He pointed out with a huge grin. "What were you doing?"

"Nothing." James said in his usual monotone, and I glanced at him: his expression had turned stony, and the blush was quickly fading as he turned back into the sarcastic kid I knew and loved. As in, like, best friend love. Nothing more.

"James was hungry," I murmured after a second, chewing on my lip.

"Merlin, Jamie." Teddy said, shaking his head in wonder as he came forward and ruffled James's hair. "That's insane. You had a lot to eat for dinner." He paused. "Besides, it's one in the morning." Teddy continued. "Go to bed."

"But it's Christmas break," I whined as Teddy put a firm hand on my back and guided me towards the door. I glanced back at James pleadingly, but he just kept his head down, going along with what Teddy wanted. He'd gone from being so incredibly nice to being his usual immature self, and I rolled my eyes, but complied with Teddy's orders.

"Now, if you guys go to bed like _good_ little boys and girls, Victoire and I will take you with us to Diagon Alley to buy Christmas Presents tomorrow." Teddy said happily, and I rolled my eyes but twisted around to smile at him. "Now. To bed."

"What'd you get me?" Louis whined as he followed Lily and I into Madame Murdoch's Tea Spot the next day. "Seriously, Sera, considering what happened when you tried to get me a birthday present, this might be the only time I get to have this present, and I should be begrudged it because…" Louis continued, but stopped as I shot him a dark look, my gaze flicking to Lily in the process.

"She's not telling you," Lily sang, flashing a grin at Louis, and I grinned down at her, strolling up to the countertop.

"What d'you guys want to drink?" I asked them as I pulled my wallet out and leafed through the bills I had: I'd withdrawn the money from the Finnigan Gringotts bank account, which Wes had told me I could do. And it was, technically, his money in the absence of my parents.

"Hot Chocolate." Lily decided, her voice like chimes, and I smiled. I loved James's little sister--legitimately, I was considering kidnapping the red-headed eight-year-old and renaming her Lily Finnigan. She was one of those little kids who you knew were going to be happy adults: she lit up rooms as she walked in, and was always incessantly chattering or giggling. And considering that I'd only known her a day, she wasn't annoying yet, though James thought she was. "I love hot chocolate."

"It's the best." I agreed with a smile. Louis came up beside me and jumped up into one of the stools next to me, spinning himself around with a lazy grin. "Lou, what d'you want?"

"A Butter Beer." He told me with a grin. "With extra--" There was the alarming, gunshot-like sound of a mass apparition behind us, and Louis, Lily and I twisted around to face seven cloaked men, all of whom had their wands trained on us. The entire room around us froze, as everyone held their breath, praying that these men somehow, improbably had an innocent aim. But Louis was already reaching for my sleeve and beginning to pull me behind him when they grabbed Lily.

"No!" I cried as a man grabbed Lily's arm and dragged her off her chair, pointing his wand to her temple, and my moment of fear threw the room into a panic, like a match in a dry forest starting a wildfire. There was a sudden flurry of movement and crush of people: Lily jerked free of her captor as he as nearly bowled over by rushing bystanders, and I caught her with Louis, grabbing her hand and Louis's as we struggled through the crowd.

"What's going on?" I demanded frantically of Louis, who just shook his head, keeping a firm grip on Lily's shoulder as we pushed her ahead of us through the crowd: letting her behind us would have been too much of a risk. She was so small--her falling behind was a very real risk.

Someone's hand closed on my hair, jerking me to a stop, and I cried out in pain, stumbling backwards against a man who pull me up against him, pressing his wand against my throat with bruising force. Louis pulled Lily back behind him as he stopped, turning to face us with a panicked expression as his eyes darted back and forth between my face and my captors.

"Miss Finnigan." The man hissed in my ear, and I swallowed in fear as I felt the man's hot breath on my cheek. Oh, God. I met Louis's gaze frantically. This man knew my name--he was after me, this was another attack. It hadn't even occurred to me they'd continue outside of Hogwarts, but of course they would--they must have been ten times easier to orchestrate when I wasn't surrounded by adults and older students. "You are one damned hard girl to find."

"You are one damned stupid man." I murmured back, trying to keep my voice strong: the only thing I could do, really, was verbally fight back. "Because this is happening in a street full of witnesses and--Louis, behind you!" I cried, my gaze flicking to a man coming up behind Louis with a predatory grin, and my captor slid his arm around my throat and squeezed, a punishment for warning Louis and Lily that we were being boxed in.

"What do you want?" Louis asked warily, his gaze flicking up to my captor as I gasped, trying to get oxygen through my constricted throat.

"A pony." One man who pushed up beside us drawled sarcastically, and I vaguely recognized his voice: he'd been in the field, near the Shrieking Shack with James, Rory and me. I couldn't remember which, though: the adrenaline flooding my veins was making it hard to think, hard to breathe. Of course, that might have been the fact that the man was choking me, too. "No, we've got what we want." He went on to say, shooting me a sideways look. I shifted my hand into my pocket, grabbing my wand and praying that none of the men would notice before I had a chance to do the damage I intended to.

I gasped for breath more loudly, now, as I ran out of air almost entirely: I was in trouble, now. I couldn't hold my breath for very long, and I'd never needed to before. Louis was looking absolutely frantic as he held Lily in front of him, his hand on one of her shoulders, and in the other, his shaky hand was holding a wand. The crowd around us had thinned considerably, and people had realized that there was something very specific about this attack, that it wasn't just a general scare tactic. It was the most intense attempted kidnapping maybe ever.

The man released his hold on me a little, realizing I was going to pass out from asphyxiation long before we left the street, and I gasped in large gulps of breath as my knees buckled. Finally I caught my breath enough to get out what I'd wanted to say since the man had pressed his wand to my throat. "Louis, take Lily and go." I pled softly, and Louis shook his head. I bit my lip and nodded once, before I stomped on my captors foot, jutting backwards with my wand and the frantic thought of a curse: the man stumbled back a few feet, clutching his hip with a strangled cry. I slammed forward to Lily and Louis, and Louis turned, so that we sandwiched Lily between us, both of us with our wands out. But we were already cornered: several men were around us. Was this what being in a war felt like? Because if so, I had an entirely new respect for my parents' generation.

"Lily, if you get the chance," I whispered to the sobbing eight-year-old, "I need you to run, sweetie. Louis and I'll get out of this one on our own, you just need to run and find your parents, or Teddy, or any adult who you know." She nodded against my back, hugging me tightly from behind, and I just kept my shaky wand pointed at the men.

"What about you guys?" She whispered, back, and I rolled my eyes a little internally: she was _such_ a Potter kid. No other eight-year-old on the planet would ask what would happen to _us_ if she ran--just what would happen to her. She was so much like James, in that respect.

"We'll be okay, Lils." Louis murmured comfortingly, with a brief smile for his younger cousin. "Just run, I'm serious, if you get the chance. It's important, just as important as us fighting these guys."

"You won't get the chance, so don't worry about it, sweetheart." The man who I'd recognized from before said in a predatory way, and I saw a flash of a wolfish grin under his hood as he raised his wand, leveling it with me.

"_Sectuse_--"

"_Stupefy!_" Louis and I cried frantically at the same time, in the vague direction of the man, and our red spells hit a shield spell of his, exploding in sparks, and then Louis, Lily and I were standing in the middle of what turned into, essentially, a fire fight.

"_Protego!"_ I screamed desperately as four spells hurdled toward us, and Lily screamed in fear as my spell buckled then shattered. Louis shot a curse at one of the men and I shoved all three of us down into uncomfortable crouches as spells slammed over our heads. This was a freaking death trap.

"_Expelliarmus!"_ I said hoarsely, slicing my wand through the air. "_Stupefy! Stupefy!"_ My spells either didn't hit their marks or glanced off of them: something sliced past the side of my head, opening a cut on my temple, and Louis fell to his knees as something the back of his head. Tears began in my eyes as I threw my arm protectively over my dazed best friend and Lily, remembering the spell that James had cast in the forest that had shot out the red sparks. "_Relashio!_" I screamed desperately, and my sparks seared through the air, climbing into the air thirty feet above my head and exploding like a firework. "_Help!_" I screamed desperately as Lily clung to me desperately. This was such a disaster--I was running on empty and Louis was what I assumed to be down for the count, _and_ I had a sobbing eight-year-old clinging to me. This couldn't go well--there was just, literally, no good ending here because I didn't believe that someone would find us before I'd either been killed or captured.

Something collided with my chest, and I fell back a little, pushing Lily back as I stumbled, tears streaming freely down my face as I tried to maintain some kind of handle on the situation.

"_Avada_--" One man began, but I slashed my wand in his vague direction, too desperate to remember the words for what I intended to say. Red, raw power seared from my wand and slashed towards him: he dodged it easily, but it stopped him from saying the killing curse.

"_Stupefy_!" I cried, then coughed, and my spell hit the man's leg: he dropped, barely conscious. It would have been better to hit his head or chest, but I would take what I could get.

"_Incarcerous_!" Louis muttered, sounding exhausted, but it was the first sign of consciousness since the spell hit his head, and I felt a surge of relief hit me like a load of bricks: he was still alive. I wasn't quite in this thing alone.

His spell hit home: a man was suddenly bound and tied, and tottered for a moment before he hit the ground, hard, and I shoved Lily to her feet, grabbing Louis's hand dragging him up with me as we took off in the opening he left in the circle of cloaked men around us.

Lily, Louis and I fled down the now-empty streets, and spells were fired off left and right, shattering store windows and once, setting fire to an awning. One hit the back of my ankle, and I stopped with a scream of pain, falling to the ground and clutching at my calf as the searing pain made me dizzy. Spells sped past us, searing the air and leaving a colorful trail of sparks, and one smacked Lily's arm as Louis and I tried to tug her out of the way: she screamed as a cut opened on her arm, continuing to sob even as we pulled her between us. I pulled my sweatshirt off quickly, tearing it off my arms before putting it around the smaller girl's shoulders, and Lily clung to it tearfully, looking up at me with big eyes.

"_Relashio_!" I screamed again, now in unison with Louis, and our spells combined, the sparks shooting a hundred feet into the air and exploding with a soft _boom_ sound, and I prayed that someone would get the idea that we didn't just like fireworks. James would, I know, ut would anyone listen to him? I knew from experience that eleven-year-olds weren't well trusted. "_Protego_!" I coughed out: my throat was still sore as hell from being choked into submission by that guy. I would have some nasty bruises, if I didn't already.

"_Stupefy_!" Louis's spell came out as more of a plea, but it still effectively exploded part of the ground (although I was pretty sure that he was aiming more for a guy, but whatever, I would take what I could get), and I shoved Lily's head down as a spell rushed past, glancing off my cheek even as I turned my head and squeezed my eyes shut. No cut opened, but I knew for a fact that I'd get a black eye soon enough.

"Lily, go," I ordered frantically, grabbing the younger girl's shirt to emphasize my point. "Go get your dad, okay? Tell him where we are--or any auror, or even just Teddy." I told her, and she nodded hurriedly, stifling a small sob before she turned and ran: I put up a shield spell protectively, but when the men didn't pursue Lily, save one spell that wasn't really that thought out, it confirmed what I already knew. They were after me. "Louis, you should go too," I whispered softly, and Louis had the good humor to smirk.

"No big deal, but I can't really stand, much less go sprinting off." He told me softly, and I didn't even bother to force a smile. There wasn't anything to smile at. "And aside from that? I'm not leaving you here." I threw him an irritated look, then ducked as a few spells flew over our head.

"Miss Finnigan, this is just sad." One of the men said tiredly, lazily flicking his wand in my direction and sending a burst of anonymous curse towards me, which I dodged not-so-skillfully. "And boring. We'll let Bill Weasley's child go if you throw your wand over here."

"Hell no." Louis responded before I could agree, and I grabbed Louis's forearm, looking him straight in the eye.

"This is as good a deal as we're going to get." I warned him softly. "I can't walk, Lou, and they really want me--I'm absolutely no help in getting out of here. Get back, go find your parents and get somebody out here: but you and I are a mess. You're at least one that I can help." I stared at him. "Please don't stay on my account." I begged him in a whisper, and Louis stared at me before he sighed, shaking his head hesitantly.

"I can't leave you here." He told me softly. "We're best friends, Sera, and I'm not doing that to you." He smiled a little at me, grabbing my hand and squeezing it comfortingly. "That'd be a totally crappy thing to do. And I'm not--_Protego_!" He cried suddenly, his voice rising in volume as he pushed me down, but something slammed into my lower back, and then something hit Louis, making him jerk then fall back--please let him only be unconscious, please God. He'd just told me how he wasn't leaving me here by myself: it would be too cruel for him to die doing that.

I leaned over Louis, ignoring the blood running down my side from my back and the shooting pain in my ankle as I patted his cheek, tears flowing down my face openly, now. "Louis?" I asked softly. "Oh, God, Louis, please wake up." I whispered, feeling panic siezed my chest, making it harder to breathe. Or maybe that was when more spells hit me: I couldn't really be sure, anymore, as my grasp on reality had slipped substantially. I swallowed against my tears, clutching my wand as the world around me spun, my vision turning into small tunnels with pin pricks of light. No, I couldn't pass out: Louis needed me. We were going to die if I didn't get my act together, but no matter how many times I tried to focus on something, anything--the sparking spells that threatened us or the men's angry faces, everything just stayed blurry and confused. My stomach turned over as I shot up a shield spell wordlessly--Louis was unconscious, I was getting there, and we were in no condition to hold up against these freaks any longer. Even my shield spell was near useless: it sparked a little as it spread around us, and there were visible weaker spots in it. I could only pray that someone had seen our sparks. "_Relashio,_" I mumbled, pointing my wand in the direction I sort of hoped was up: I couldn't see enough to really know.

"Miss Finnigan, we can leave Mr. Weasley if only you'll come with us." A man offered me in his sleaziest voice, and I shook my head tearfully, putting my hand on Louis's chest possessively: I didn't believe them, not for a second. I was lethargic and a little crazy from blood loss but I wasn't stupid. Louis was the nephew of three war heroes, and James and Louis had revealed a little to me regarding the security on their home because of the constant fear of kidnappers. They'd never leave Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley's nephew and take the daughter of a quidditch supply shop manager. Sheer logic promised me that.

"_Protego_!" I muttered as my vision began to clear, but things were still hazy, still spinning, and all my limbs felt like jelly. "_Stupefy! Incarcerous!_" I paused, trying to catch my breath, but my breath wasn't really coming: had I hurt my ribs? Or was this just panic? "_Relashio_!" This time my voice was an actual scream, and my sparks slammed into the air faster and higher, exploding with a loud boom sound that shook the world once more, and Louis moaned, disoriented--he was alive. Dead people couldn't moan.

"Miss Finnigan, your father is just _dying_ to see you." One man said as I prepared to start another string of desperate defensive spells.

_What was I supposed to do with this_?

"We won't hurt him if you come with us."

Oh, no. Please, no.

Dad. They were bargaining with me for my father. I had no idea in hell whether they even had my dad, and this might have been a trick, but I couldn't just walk away and hope to God that they weren't about to go back to their secret hide out or something and tell my father that his daughter didn't care enough about him to go with some idiots, or kill him just to prove a point.

"Sera, don't." Louis mumbled hoarsely, his eyes opening infinitesimally as he grabbed my hand with a weak hand of his own, and I glanced down at him tearfully. Good news was that he wasn't unconscious anymore--bad news: he wasn't looking or sounding too good anyway. "Don't."

"And we'll leave your brother be--but of course, he's being smarter about this. You're just so easy to get into a tight spot, sweetheart, and the crowd you run with--why, the Potters are just too easy to track--" A spell shot over Louis and I to slam into the man and he crumpled to the ground. I twisted around to look behind me--James's Mum and Dad, Louis's Mum and Dad, and lots of others who I'd either met briefly last night or had never met before. Either way, these were the good guys. We might not die now.

"_Avada Kadavera_!" Someone behind me shouted, and I wordlessly slashed my wand, a shield spell springing up as I ducked, praying that would be enough to protect me from the spell that had taken James's grandparents' lives. And it was, because the explosion of spell sparks above me told me that I would be one dead girl had my shield spell not been up.

"Sera!" That was James's voice. I looked up desperately, searching for my best friend, and suddenly there were adults around us, aurors blocking any sight in or out of the tight circle that had been formed around Louis and I--and we were safe.

"Louis?" I asked my friend, leaning over him and touching his face. "C'mon, Louis, wake up…" I pled softly, swiping away the tears streaming down my face with the back of my other hand. The aurors were glancing back at me, but I ignored them, just trying to get some sort of response out of the blond-haired boy on the ground in front of me. "_Louis_, please, I'm being serious--"

"Sera, I'm awake, shut up." He groaned quietly, and I bit my lip as he opened his eyes and smiled weakly at me, and I sobbed in relief, and Louis hauled me down for a hug, wrapping his good arm around my neck, but there was a rushing feeling in my head as I leaned down to hug him, sobbing entirely, now.

Then Mrs. Potter was putting a hand on my upper back, and another on my upper arm as she helped me to my feet, but I cried out softly as I put weight on my ankle and my lower back sparked with pain that threaded down my thigh, and she picked me up effortlessly, then passed me to someone--Teddy, I figured out after a second.

"Jesus, Sera." Teddy murmured as my eyes fluttered and I struggled to stay conscious: things were moving too fast though--with Teddy sprinting as he was and the blur of worried faces around me. "You're a mess." I just closed my eyes, turning my head towards Teddy.

"Someone has to get Louis," I mumbled softly.

"His Dad's got 'im," Teddy told me softly.

"They knew about my dad." I told Teddy, but my words were slurring together at this point, I wasn't sure that my words were getting through. "And they knew my name, and they told me if I went with them Dad wouldn't get hurt but then Louis told me not to. And they'd leave Wes be." I wasn't sure why I was telling this to Teddy of all people, but he happened to be here, and I had to tell someone so they'd know: Louis, Lily and I hadn't just happened to end up with these guys.

Wait, Lily.

"Lily?" I asked after a second, but this time the word came out as a murmur, impossible to understand, and then colorless dots appeared in my vision and expanded until there was nothing but empty space around me, and I was unconscious.


	15. Lose Control

My eyes opened blearily some time later: I couldn't really figure out how much longer. There was a white ceiling above me--and then I realized I didn't know which ceiling this was. It wasn't the Potters', not my own, not Hogwarts. So where was I?

"Sera?" Louis's anxious face was suddenly above mine. "Hey! You're awake!" He said cheerfully, and I smiled a little at him, reaching up to rub at my eyes: a surge of pain hit my face, and I winced. "Yeah, I would have warned you--you have some nasty bruises from that spell: broke some bone in your face, too, but the healer fixed it." Louis told me softly, and I nodded efficiently, pushing myself into a sitting position.

I was in a hospital room. Louis was standing beside my bed on my left side: on my right, James was sitting in a chair, his expression stony as he met my gaze. I glanced back at Louis, eying the crutches he was using to support himself before I met his gaze wearily. "You okay?" I asked hoarsely, coughing a little to clear my throat, and he raised his eyebrows, looking past me to James.

"She's _actually_ asking me about my well-being." Louis said in an intensely tolerant voice. "We got attacked, she was _obviously_ the target and the worst hurt and nearly kidnapped and killed--and she asks about my injuries." I waited patiently through this, just continuing to watch Louis as he finished and shot me a look that clearly said _you're crazy_. Louis met my gaze with his own irritated one for a moment before he sighed. "I'm fine, Ser."

"They give crutches to fine people now?" I asked, raising my eyebrows a little bit, but that caused a spark of pain as well, and I brushed my cool fingers over the right side of my face.

"Messed up my knee, just need them for the next few days or so." Louis said easily, shrugging. "You're the one in--oh, I wouldn't do that." Louis whined as I flipped off the blankets and limped over to the bathroom to look in the mirror.

My face was _disgusting_.

My right eye was almost swollen shut, and the actual skin was black, blue and green, with the purple dots in places that marked it as a super nasty bruise, and my throat had similar bruises ringing it, giving away that I'd been choked, at some point. I looked horribly abused. "Oh my God…" I murmured, blushing a little on the visible part of my face.

"Yeah, your face looks pretty intense." Louis agreed softly, using his crutches to come over to the doorway of the bathroom. I met his gaze with my own, and he looked exceedingly sympathetic, but it wasn't particularly helpful.

"Understatement of the year." I retorted, my voice quiet.

"It'll go away in a few days, the healer said." Louis tried comfortingly, and I smiled a little bit at him in the mirror. The smile looked equally alarming, though, and I turned away from the mirror, turning to face Louis. "And he also said you probably shouldn't be walking around."

"Eh, I never listen to Madame Pomfrey, either." I told him with a small grin. I paused, letting Louis move out of the doorway before I walked carefully past him, half-hopping over to the bed. James was still sitting there stonily. "Lily got back okay, right?"

"She got a little roughed up on her way back, but she's fine." James told me quietly. "Unlike you." I rolled my eyes a little, then winced again: I had to learn to pretty much stop moving most of my facial muscles if this horrific bruise was going to continue to hurt the way it did.

"I'm fine." I told him shortly, then paused. I didn't actually know that for a fact. "Right?" I asked, glancing at Louis.

"You cracked a vertabra. You shattered your ankle, you messed up your face and broke your _eye socket--" _James was getting more upset as he went, and I grabbed his hand, squeezing it a little as I thought I saw the unfamiliar flash of tears in his eyes. Louis was looking nervous in his chair, much in the way of guy best friends. "In Diagon Alley, Teddy and my dad thought you were dead," James said angrily, pulling his hand from mine to run it through his short brown hair, and I swallowed against a sudden lump in my throat. "My dad--he's not one of those people who panics unnecessarily, Sera. When my dad thinks you're dead, good chance is, you are dead." James's voice broke on the last word, and I felt a surge of pain for my best friend. This poor kid had thought I was dead.

"Why would they think that?" I whispered, scandalized that James and Louis had thought, even for a second, that I was dead. I wasn't sure how I would have acted through that, but I knew sure as hell that it wouldn't have been good.

"You weren't breathing really well and the bruises around your throat were showing up." Louis said seriously, sinking into his chair beside my bed again, and I stared at him. "And I gave them a sort of abbreviated version of our injuries, so they knew you'd been choked, at some point. Uncle Harry thought maybe they'd come in too late or something--and you got a lot of blood on Teddy. Like, a hell of a lot of blood." Louis bit his lip nervously. "Like, Victoire thought it was his when she saw him and almost fainted."

"So you're not fine." James hissed finally, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms like a four-year-old. I pulled my legs up to my chest, grateful for the fact that someone had left me in the clothes from this morning. Wait, it was this morning, right?

"How long's it been since…" I asked softly, my voice a little hoarse.

"It's about three o'clock." Louis murmured, understanding the rest of what I'd wanted to say. He watched me sympathetically for a moment before he sighed. "The rest of my family really wanted to talk to you…" He said softly, chewing on his lip nervously. He rubbed the back of his head, messing up his hair a little, before continuing. "If you're feeling up to it, and stuff. And Lily was pretty freaked about you too, last time I checked, and could probably use some reassurance from you yourself that you're A-okay." He paused. "And we've been trying to contact Wes, but I guess… we're having a hard time finding him, I don't think you ever told us where he was staying for the holidays." Louis explained quietly, and I nodded once, understanding.

"Devon Hornbeck's house--I'll call him." I said quickly, just able to imagine the heart attack that would ensue if Wes got a call from one of James and Louis's relatives saying I'd been injured. I now had enough experience with my brother and my injuries to predict that. "And I'd love to see Lily." I paused, reaching up to touch my face. "She won't…" I blushed. "Be… I dunno, scared, or anything." Louis snorted in laughter.

"Your face looks like you're abused, Ser, not like you're a Hungarian Horntail." Louis said teasingly, but when I didn't laugh with him, his laughter faded. "Sera, you look fine. It's just a bruise." I nodded miserably, and Louis sighed, standing again, carefully. "C'mon, Sera, you look nice." He told me as he walked to the door, and I jumped out of bed, wincing a little as I landed on my sore ankle. "Hey, you're not supposed to be--"

"I'll be fine." I insisted with an ironic smile: the words had flipped James out earlier, and I saw him stiffen as he stood to follow us. I knew the sentiment bothered him--but it was true enough that I really didn't feel any guilt saying it, just concern for my best friend. I turned back to him with a serious expression. "You okay, Jamie?" I asked him softly, and he knew I didn't mean about injuries.

"I'll be fine." He murmured, his eyes dark, and I hesitated, searching his face for any normal feeling, before I flung my arms around him and hugged him tightly. He hugged me back, burying his face in my hair, and I stroked down the hair on the back of his head as Louis looked away, a red blush crawling up his neck. Jamie sighed softly, and I rubbed his back a little, giving him a minute to calm down before I spoke.

"Hey, everyone's okay." I reminded James softly as he lifted his face, to rest his chin on my shoulder. "Louis, Lily, me. We're all fine."

"Yeah, I can tell Louis and his crutches are just dandy." James said sarcastically, his voice a little shaky, but I listened for and didn't hear anymore anger. I pulled away after a second, and James put his arm around my shoulders.

"Did you just say 'dandy'?" I asked him skeptically, a small grin on my face: anything bigger hurt more, and James glanced at me sideways, grinning too. The shadowed feeling in his eyes didn't go away, though: he was feeling better about the attack, but not good.

"No," He bluffed as we stepped into the hallway.

"Um, I think you did, cuz." Louis said with an equally wicked grin.

"You guys are ganging up on me." James whined as we walked down the hallway: Jamie and I were careful to keep our pace slower than usual as we walked, however, because Louis was still kind of clumsy on his crutches.

"You said 'dandy', Jamie, that's kind of a deal breaker for all the ganging up rules." I told him quietly, and James laughed as we turned through an archway at the end of the hallway into a conference room type place with lots of chairs. And filled to the brim with people: Teddy, Victoire, Mr. and Mrs. Potter, Albus and Lily Potter, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley (Louis's parents--there were _lots_ of Mr. and Mrs. Weasleys) sat inside, and all of the above looked up at me, wide-eyed, as we entered the room.

"_Sera_!" Lily shouted, jumping up from her spot in her father's lap to sprint across the room and slam into me: James removed his arm from around my shoulders, but put a hand on my back, steadying me while I caught his eight-year-old sister.

"Hey Lils." I said, giggling a little.

"You're okay? Because Teddy has a _lot_ of blood on him--"

"Yeah, but I'm fine." I said emphatically, looking at James over Lily's head, meeting his gaze seriously.

"Angel, let's let Sera sit down…" James's mother said quickly, standing and moving forward to detach her daughter. "She's still not all better yet…" She flashed me a smile as she unwrapped Lily's arms from my waist, and once she's passed the red-head to James, she hugged me carefully, obviously trying to mindful of my injuries. "Glad to see you feeling better, sweetheart." I hugged her back, feeling nervous: the Potters were probably going to want me to leave, after what had happened to Louis. And I couldn't say I would blame them--because I was being hunted, their twelve-year-old nephew had been nearly killed or kidnapped.

She pulled back after a moment to hold me at arms' length. She put a hand on my head and tilted it back, inspecting the damaged side of my face. "That's a nasty bruise, you have there."

"Louis said the healer said it would go away in a few days." I said in a small voice, and she nodded with a delighted smile, leading me over to a chair and I sat down nervously, throwing James and Louis pleading looks. I wasn't great with adults, if for the only reason that I didn't really know enough ones that I liked and trusted.

"The healer _also_ said that you shouldn't be out of bed yet…" Louis began, and I threw him an irritated look in unison with James.

"My ankle and my back are fine, Lou, and I'm not even putting that much weight on my ankle anyway so it doesn't matter." I said earnestly, and Louis snorted.

"More like you got bored and decided it didn't matter." Louis retorted, taking the empty seat next to me. James crossed his arms in front of me, meeting my gaze with a challenge, and I stuck my tongue out at him. He grinned, chuckling a little as his arms fell back to his sides.

"You're feeling all better, squirt?" Teddy asked behind me, and I spun around in my chair, which was one of those ones where you _could_ spin around. His eyebrows raised, and I self-consciously remembered my marred face: I bit my lip, raising my fingers to touch my cheek again.

"Um, yeah." I grinned at him, letting my hand drop and trying not to let show how much the bruise was bothering me. "And sorry for, um, ruining your shirt." I said awkwardly, and Teddy laughed quietly, grabbing Victoire's hand: she was standing beside him, and her face was a little paler than usual, her protective gaze on her little brother.

"Not a problem." Ted said, chuckling a little.

"Sera, if you're not supposed to be out of bed…" Mr. Potter began doubtfully, and I bit my lip.

"Oh, shush, Harry, you never stayed in bed when you were injured either." Mrs. Potter said with a wry smile for her husband. She looked at me. "That said, now, Sera, if you feel at all ill, you have to go back to bed."

"Understood." I said with a shy smile. "Thank you."

"No, thank you." Mrs. Potter continued, her words clichéd but completely serious, and I swallowed against the sudden silence in the room. "Thank you _both_ for sending Lily back--she didn't have a wand and she was too young to be out there--you were all too young to be out there--and by doing so you probably saved her life." Mrs. Potter's eyes were suddenly teary as she glanced at Louis with a tight smile. There was a heavy silence.

"So what exactly happened for you two to have such extensive injuries?" Victoire asked tightly and I glanced at Louis nervously. Louis wasn't looking at me, though: he was watching Victoire nervously, much in the way I knew I watched Wes when I'd had to relay to him anything bad--it was the "_please don't kill the messenger" _look.

"We were in a tea shop, and we were ordering, and then these men apparated in--I don't remember how many." I began unsteadily. "And they grabbed Lily, but when people started to panic she got away--and then they caught me in the street and then we sort of got away again, and then they trapped us."

"And then we got away _again_." Louis cut in. "And then they trapped us again, but by then…" Louis trailed off, shooting me an uncertain look. "I was pretty out of it, but they were talking to you, right?" My gaze dropped to the floor as I considered how I was supposed to explain this.

"They said they wouldn't hurt my Dad if I went with them." I said softly. "They knew my name, they knew Louis, they wanted me to leave him and go with them but I didn't believe they would just leave him be--I mean, should I have gone, though? Would you be less hurt?" I looked up at Louis with wide eyes, but he shook his head emphatically.

"Never." James said behind me, his voice steely. "Never go with them, Sera." I glanced back at him, and

"They knew about your dad?" Mr. Potter interrupted suspiciously, looking a little alarmed. I swallowed past my own nervousness, but his expression didn't escape me: Harry Potter had saved the world and had been the Chief Auror at the Ministry of Magic for a few years now. He didn't get alarmed unnecessarily.

"Yeah." I said quietly, nodding carefully: my face was still sort of hurting. "I don't want to be rude." I continued quietly, when no one said anything further, and Mrs. Potter's eyebrows together in a concerned way. "Especially since you've all be really, really nice. But can I call my brother?" Mrs. Potter nodded instantly, looking towards her godson.

"Teddy, will you get him?" She asked my ex-quidditch captain quietly, and Teddy nodded, rising to his feet with a small smile for me.

"Can I go?" I asked pleadingly, biting my lip. Teddy showing up at Devon's house was going to give Wes an actual heart attack, I knew it. And Wes didn't deserve another actual heart attack--every time I did this, I knew Wes freaked out, and I couldn't really blame him, especially after his bludger incident.

"I'd say yes, Sera, but I'm worried about letting you use the floo when you're already a little unsteady on your feet, and Teddy can apparate but I'd be nervous about having him side-along you." Mrs. Potter explained gently, and I nodded in understanding. "Where's he staying, Sera? With your godparents?"

"No--at Devon Hornbeck's house," I said softly, looking at Teddy.

"Devon is Jon's little brother?" Teddy asked.

"Yeah," I murmured.

"Then I know where they live." Teddy said affirmatively. He kissed the top of Victoire's head, then moved back a few feet. "I'll be back in a few minutes." He disapparated with a loud _pop_, and I flinched, the noise the same as it had been at the tea shop. Louis's hand shot out to grab my wrist, and we exchanged looks of suppressed panic. Would the noise always startle this panic out of us?

Jamie put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly, and I glanced up at him, a tight smile on my face. His eyes were dark again--not the color, but they were filled with the same anger James had shown back in the room and back when Gallagher had split my cheek. I remembered what Teddy had told me that day as we climbed the stairs--James and Louis were protective of me, and he hadn't seen that before in Jamie. And then what Wes had said about James and Louis having not-so-friendly thoughts about me. And then, last night. Jamie had kissed my forehead. Wes sometimes did that, but he was my brother, and he only did it when something had happened--when I was eight and I was _almost _hit by a car, when I went missing at Hogwarts after seeing him in Hogsmeade. And Jamie wasn't my brother. And he'd blushed like three seconds later and hadn't told Teddy what we'd been doing. Maybe Jamie did like me.

"Sera, I don't think we've met." Mr. Weasley said quietly, coming forward and extending a hand for me to shake. Mr. Weasley was tall--really, really tall--with scarlet hair and blue eyes. His face was scarred all over, which looked a little bit intimidating, but then he smiled, and he reminded me a little bit of my own father: goofy and nice. "I'm Bill Weasley, Louis's father. I've heard so much about you." Louis stared at him, blushing, and I grinned a little as Louis sank back in his chair.

"Why _Louis_, what have you been saying about Ser?" Jamie asked teasingly.

"Ex-_cuse_ me, Jamie." I said, grinning up at my best friend, and Jamie watched me warily. "Didn't _your_ dad say something like that back at Hogwarts?" James blushed too, and I laughed softly, crossing my arms over my chest as I leaned back in my chair triumphantly. I looked back at Mr. Weasley and realized I hadn't yet shaken his hand: I blushed and took it with a rueful smile. "Nice to meet you." I said pleasantly.

"Nice to meet you too," Mr. Weasley said, grinning outright now. "I'm glad James and Louis have someone keeping them in line at Hogwarts." I grinned back.

"And I am Mrs. Weasley," A blond woman who reminded me starkly of Victoire said sweetly, coming forward from where she'd been standing behind Victoire, and when I held out my hand to shake hers, she pulled me up into a tight hug from my seat. I hugged her back, grinning a little, and she patted my back happily. "Thank you for getting my baby boy home." She said quietly in a thick French accent.

"Mum!" Louis protested loudly behind me, and I giggled gently. "I'm _twelve-years-old_!" James snickered behind me, as Mrs. Weasley released me with a watery smile, smoothing down my hair. "Shut _up_, James." Louis hissed at his cousin, and I grinned at the boys as Mrs. Weasley walked carefully back to her husband. Louis punched James's shoulder as James continued to snicker, and I felt a surge of affection for them. I took a step forward and hugged them both tightly, squeezing my eyes shut as I looped and arm around each of their necks, and Louis chuckled softly, patting my back.

"Okay, SerBear, you know how Jamesie gets if you hug him too long-- _oof_." James and Louis pulled back and James shoved Louis into a chair again, blushing heavily. I giggled, falling back a few steps because I certainly had no desire to get the crap beaten out of me by my best friend.

The sound of apparition startled me, and I turned around to smile at my big brother and Teddy. Wes seemed frozen on the spot, and he stared at me, his eyes wide before he exhaled shortly. "What the hell did you do to your face?" He demanded, looking exhausted, and Teddy clapped him on the back before he returned to his seat beside Victoire, who looked vaguely amused at Wes's reaction.

"You must know enough girls to know that isn't a way to greet one." I told him tartly, putting my hands on my hips, and Wes scrubbed at his face. I dropped my hands after a second and smiled and blushed guiltily. "I was attacked again. In Diagon Alley."

"I'm going to wrap you in bubble wrap one of these days, I swear." Wes murmured, and he hugged me to him tightly, but he loosened his hold a little bit as he realized I was standing a little stiffly. "So other than your face, what's the damage, kiddo?" He asked me, pulling away and looking tired. He put a hand on my face and turned it to the side and tilted it back a little, inspecting the massive bruise, and I blushed, pulling away and shrugging a little and crossing my arms, and Wes shot me a brief scowl before he looked back at Teddy. "You have better information than her, evidently." Wes murmured, dropping his hand from my head and putting his arm around my shoulders.

"Shattered ankle, broken eye socket, broken vertebra, mild concussion," Teddy said flatly, and Wes sighed heavily, pulling me against him closer, and I leaned my head against his chest, sighing softly. It sounded so much scarier when Teddy said it in his doctor voice. "She's still recovering from shock, I think--at the scene her breathing slowed pretty seriously." He paused, and my gaze flicked to Jamesie, who was looking slightly murderous.

"Jesus." Wes murmured tiredly, smoothing down my hair with one hand. "How're you feeling, kid?" He asked me softly, looking down at me, and I shrugged with a small smile.

"Okay," I murmured. And that was true: Jamie and Louis were okay, Lily was okay, and Wes was here. I wanted my parents to be okay too--but I didn't really expect it, not anymore. I wondered briefly if that was a good thing, or if that was one of those things that would make Wes and Dean worry I was growing up too fast.

"Well, that's something." He looked up at Mr. and Mrs. Potter, and smiled ruefully. "It's nice to see you again, though I regret the circumstances." Wes said quietly to the adults, and Mr. Potter smiled sympathetically at him while Mrs. Potter just watched us with a pleased smile. "Were any of her attackers caught?" Wes asked quietly, rubbing my back distractedly, and I closed my eyes sleepily.

"Three, actually." Mr. Potter said. "But they haven't spoken yet--they haven't even given their names." James's father looked proudly at Louis. "My nephew actually caught one of them, and Sera stupefied another." Wes smiled a little at me, but said nothing. "Wesley, Serafina--you should know that I called Dean and Monica, and told them what happened--" Harry began carefully, and Wes stiffened. "And told them not to come. But I hope you call them--Dean is genuinely concerned about you two."

"Dad." James said quietly, the word a warning, and his parents shot him scolding looks, but I smiled gratefully at him.

"SerBear, will you sit with James and Louis for a minute while I talk to Mr. and Mrs. Potter?" Wes asked me softly, and I nodded, pulling away. I crossed the room to sit down in the chair beside Louis, and he put his arm around my shoulders. I leaned against him, suddenly exhausted, and James sat down beside me. Mr. and Mrs. Potter moved outside with Wes, to stand just outside the archway, and they began a serious conversation almost instantly, with Wes talking fast but quietly, and Mr. and Mrs. Potter listening raptly.

"What d'you think they're talking about?" I asked softly.

"How you can't buy me a present without people attacking you?" Louis suggested softly, and I giggled, sitting up with a gentle smile for him. "No, seriously, let's just think about this for a minute--the attack from those guys for my birthday, and _this_ attack from _these_ guys for Christmas. That can't be a coincidence." James snorted at this, trading skeptical looks with me: Louis was only joking, but it was still fun to discredit him.

"Considering that the alternative is that there is an entire force of people out to stop Serafina Finnigan from buying Louis Weasley presents, then yes, in fact, I would say that it's a coincidence." James murmured in a deadpan. I grinned at him.

"I really hope that's the case, cause it'll save me a boatload of trouble." I said, raising an eyebrow. "I could get back on the quidditch team--if Teddy'd let me--" I grinned manipulatively at Teddy, who chuckled lightly-- "And Wes could go to Hogsmeade and I wouldn't have to feel guilty for getting him banned…" James snickered.

"Not entirely sure what I'd do if Lily or Al ever get me banned from Hogsmeade." James murmured with a crooked grin. "But I'm fairly sure it won't be as nice as Wes is being to you."

"Yeah, he's pretty awesome." I agreed softly.

"You know who _else_ is pretty awesome?" Louis asked, leaning his head back on his shoulders and turning to grin at me lazily. "_Me!_" I laughed softly, tiredly, and I turned to smile at Jamie, blinking sleepily. James frowned at me, a crease forming between his eyebrows and he looked at me seriously.

"You okay?" He asked me. I nodded with a smile.

"Sleepy." I murmured, and Wes walked back into the room, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Potter. The Potters went to talk quietly to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Wes wandered over to me.

"Okay, kiddo, it sounds like you're not even supposed to be out of bed." Wes told me in a resigned voice, and I yawned tiredly. "And it looks like it too, so we're gonna bust you out of here and you're going to head back to the Potters' with them and--" He crouched down in front of me, putting a hand on each shoulder and meeting my gaze intensely. "You are going to go to bed. I don't care that it's early afternoon. I want you in bed the second you get back there, seriously." He paused. "And then tomorrow you are going to owl me and then Alec because he's freaking out."

"Tell him not to." I said crossly, frowning, and Wes chuckled, standing.

"Yeah, you're right, that'll fix it." He said sarcastically, and I rolled my eyes. He grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet, and then hugged me tightly. "Take it easy, kiddo. And owl me. All the freaking time. Because or else--and I am completely serious--I will turn up at the Potters and take you back to Devon's with me and you'll be bored and stuck with people you don't know." I pulled back to glare up at Wes.

"Is that a joke?" I demanded.

"Don't find out." Wes advised, ruffling my hair. He kissed the top of my head. "I'm gonna take you back to the Potters and then I'm going to head home." I nodded sleepily, taking a seat, and Wes went back over to the Potters, picking up a clipboard from Mr. Weasley. I pulled my knees up and rested the unhurt side of my face on my knees, closing my eyes, and James draped his sweatshirt over me.

And then I was out like a light.

I woke up the next morning fairly early: it was about eight-ish, which was pretty much unheard of for me. Even for school, my alarm clock had to be ten times louder than anyone else's to even make a dent in my sleeping pattern. Louis was still out cold, but Hugo, Roxy and Fred weren't there--last night, Lily had slept with her parents--and James was sitting in the arm chair in the corner of his room, in his hands a copy of the Daily Prophet.

"G'morning." I said sleepily as I sat up, and James's gaze flicked up to me, looking murderous. "Uh-oh," I muttered as I pushed myself to my feet. I picked my way over the discarded sleeping bags around me to where James was sitting, and he shoved the paper into my hands, before scowling darkly at the ground and grabbing the arms of his chair, his knuckles turning white.

_ATTACK IN DIAGON REVEALS MISSING MINISTRY WORKERS; DAUGHTER WAS TARGET._

Oh my God.

I flipped open the paper to realize that my family was the _entire first page_. One article covered the entire first page. And it was me. And there were pictures--a photo of Mum, Dad, Wes and me in Canada, last year, when we'd went so Dad could look at new suppliers for his store; and then a picture of my parents in someone's backyard, looking younger than they had in a while. A picture of me with James Potter. My family was _all_ _over_ _this_.

"Holy…" I murmured as my eyes scanned the article. The Prophet knew everything--Mum and Dad having some sort of secret involvement with the Ministry, how they'd been missing for weeks and we hadn't been allowed to tell anyone. How their eleven-year-old daughter was being hunted, how their fourteen-year-old son was the target of a bludger attack on Hogwarts grounds that was still being investigated. "Oh, God." I murmured, realizing that there were more pictures, from yesterday, in here: a particularly intense one sported Mrs. Potter holding James back as Teddy put me down on a stretcher, in Diagon Alley.

"Ser, I'm sorry, this sucks." James murmured to me after a moment, and my gaze flicked up to him.

"How the hell do they have these pictures?" I demanded quietly, turning the paper so he could see it. "These were private family photographs--and this story has a bunch of details and…" I swallowed, looking down at it and running a frantic hand through my hair. I turned to glance at Louis's sleeping form before I grabbed James's hand and dragged him out of the room after me. I shut the door behind me and then turned to face James. "Jamie, what am I supposed to do with this? My family is _everywhere_ in this paper, this is ridiculous." I whispered frantically, and James sighed, taking the paper from me to inspect it.

"Where'd they even get this picture of us--this is from the Halloween Dance." James said softly. "Another student must have taken this…" I paused, wrapping my arms around myself and sinking down against the wall. James sat down next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. Everyone knew.

Everyone knew my family's business, how I had no parents to speak of and hadn't for some time. Everyone knew that it was my fault that James and Louis and Rory had ever been hurt, that Dean and Monica and Wes and I had fought, that I was staying at the Potters over break. Someone at the Ministry had talked to the paper--there was an "anonymous source" reference several times who was apparently a higher-up at the Ministry.

"What are you two dorks doing sitting in the hallway?" Teddy asked sleepily as he emerged from his room, rubbing his eyes with one hand and stretching the other far above his head. He took one look at us before he sighed, dropping his hands. "Jesus, you two have more drama than Vicky." He told us irritatedly, coming over. "What's wrong?" He asked in his resigned, I'm-not-particularly-interested-but-you're-younger-than-me-so-I-need-to-show-an-interest voice.

I handed the paper up to him, turning my gaze away as I did. Teddy took one look at the paper and cursed under his breath, shaking it out and eying the article angrily. "Wes is going to want to pick you up." Teddy told me, lowering the paper for a second.

"He's not that much older than me, if I tell him I'm not going, he won't make me." I told Teddy tiredly, pushing myself to my feet. I grabbed the paper back from Teddy and pulled James to his feet. "Let's just go downstairs. This already sucks, there's no point in spending time up here." James's stomach growled, and I forced a grin in his direction: he didn't even bother returning it, knowing it was a fake. James glared at me, and I let the grin drop, meeting his gaze and then speaking in a monotone that James had practically patented: "And you're starving. Again."

"Wes is going to call the house the second he wakes up." Teddy predicted as we descended the stairs, and I smirked, throwing a glance back at my old quidditch captain. "And he's going to take you back to Devon's with him."

"You think he'll call? He'll just floo over here--there'll be no discussion over it." I told him, a note of anger in my voice, and as we hit the landing, Jamie grabbed my sleeve and pulled me to the side of the stair case a little. Teddy kept walking, going into the kitchen, and James met my gaze anxiously, pure concern running over his features.

"Are you okay?" He asked me softly. "I know how much it sucks to have your family in the paper." I stared at him, feeling my chin wobble. I pressed my lips together as tears burned in my eyes, and I swallowed against the sudden lump in my throat. I bit the inside of my lip, trying to keep it together, but when the first tear fell, I wrapped my arms around James and pressed my face into his shoulder. "Hey, Sera, it's okay," James told me softly, tucking my head under his chin. "I'm so sorry that this happened to you," He murmured to me. "This sucks, I know, but everything will turn out alright." I sobbed, and he rubbed my back and pulled me closer. "Shh, you'll be okay…"

God, did I want to believe him.


	16. Us Against the World

**Chapter 16**

"Sera, d'you have—aww, c'mon." Louis winced as he followed me into the kitchen. I twisted to grin at him, snagging a muffin. "You're seriously wearing my sweatshirt? It's like, three sizes too big on you." He grinned a little, plucking at it. I stuck my tongue out at him, and slung an arm around my shoulders, catching up to me as I snagged two pieces of bread and shoved them in the muggle toaster that sat on the Potters' counter. They kept it around because someone was always in school—first Teddy and now James, and soon Albus, and then Lily—and school-aged wizards and witches couldn't use magic outside of school. "Do you even know which team this is for?" He demanded. "And don't look down, that's cheating."

It'd been a little over a week since the attack in Diagon Alley, and things had died down significantly. Everyone was still talking about the Finnigan family--we were a household name, now--but the Potters were kind of the ideal family to be staying with when the press were stalking you. I hadn't seen a Daily Prophet since the day after the attack, and even the Quibbler, which was Mrs. Potter's best friend's magazine, had mysteriously disappeared since the accident.

"Doesn't matter." I told him pleasantly. "What _does_ matter is that I was cold, and I have a fantastic friend who does things like steal his cousin's sweatshirt to give to me because I am fantastic best friends with _him_, too." Louis rolled his eyes in exasperation, and across the kitchen, Louis's uncle Ron and dad, chuckled quietly.

"Well, yes, I do understand that, but this is my all time favorite sweatshirt. And you're about to get your butt-kicked by Teddy at Quidditch which means you're going to get it disgusting because you're _you_—" I turned to glare at Louis, leaning back against the countertop as my eyes narrowed. Teddy had decided that today would be a good day for a quidditch game--Jamie, Victoire, Albus and me against Louis, Teddy, Lily and Rose.

"Excuse me, no." I protested, turning to face him haughtily. "I'm going to _crush_ Teddy—"

"Oh, c'mon, he's team captain." Louis scoffed, his gaze skeptical. "And a seventh year."

"Yeah, but Victoire can distract him--" Louis made a face, predictably, "and then Albus and Rose will just bicker the entire time," Louis grinned at this, "which really makes this game you and Lily against me and Jamie. And thus, we win." I retorted. Louis rolled his eyes tiredly.

"And to think that I ever wondered how James and you are friends. You guys argue in _exactly_ the same way." Louis muttered, and I slung my arm around his shoulders, grinning crookedly. Louis's gaze flicked past me, however, to someone standing behind me, and I twisted around.

"I wanna play," Wes whined from the doorway, and I grinned up at my big brother, racing across the kitchen to slam into him, wrapping my arms around him: he laughed, hugging me back tightly. I hadn't seen him since the Diagon Alley accident, but I'd floo-called him on Christmas.

"Hi Wessy," I squeaked out, and Wes rubbed my back before releasing me.

"You're not supposed to call me that, Kiddo…" He whined, holding me at arms' length, and I smiled shyly at him. He put a hand under my chin, turning my face to the side, inspecting the fading bruises, and I squirmed uncomfortably. "This is looking a lot better." Wes said, sounding pleased, releasing me and then pulling me against his side in a one-armed hug. "So how're your back and ankle?"

"Wes…" I groaned in irritation, pulling away from my big brother as the toast popped up. Louis grinned crookedly, and I shot him a look: he understood my pain in terms of the older siblings in our lives being excessively protective. "I'm not an invalid."

"Yeah, but I'm your big brother and you were in the hospital a week ago." Wes said with a smile, but I heard the tenseness in his voice at the mention of my injury. I glanced at Wes warningly for a moment, before looking back at Louis: I felt kind of bad for Wes, when he put it that way. Wes sank down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table before he saw the adults, and he bounced back to his feet, walking over to the men. "Hello Mr. Weasley, Mr. Weasley." He said, and Louis's father shook his hand with a big smile. "Nice to see you again."

"Nice to see you too, Wes." Louis's Dad said happily, and I buttered my toast carefully, and Wes came up behind and stole a piece, flashing me a grin.

"Sorry kiddo, spent like all morning at Alec's, I need the energy." He told me. My face brightened at the prospect of my god brother, and I touched my charm bracelet, almost subconsciously.

"Okay, toast-stealing brother, what're you doing here?" I demanded, turning to my brother with an expectant smile.

"Well, last time I saw you, you looked awful and you were passed out from pain killers in a hospital chair. And I didn't see you on Christmas and Teddy invited me over." I grinned, feeling suddenly grateful towards Teddy. Wes could be annoying as hell, but I'd rather have him around. Still.

"So you were at Alec's this morning?" I asked after a second, and Wes nodded as he munched on my toast. "How is he? I haven't called him yet--I know, you told me to call him like a week ago--" I cut myself off as Wes scowled at me.

"Dean is really worried about you, Sera." Wes said firmly. He paused. "And considering the fact that everyone knows that Mum and Dad are gone now, Dean's going to meet with the Minister and get him to declare them MIA. Officially. Which means we might be seeing them a lot more, soon." Wes met my gaze seriously, and I swallowed, sinking into the seat across from Wes at the kitchen table, leaning across the table: Louis wandered over to his dad, sensing I needed to talk to my brother.

"So we're with them?" I asked softly.

"Maybe." Wes said slowly. "Or Mum's parents, if they're willing." I felt my eyes widen a little as I sat back in my seat: Mom's parents were muggles, and had more or less cut off all contact with her upon the realization that she intended to live her entire life as a witch.

"No…" I murmured. "Wes, they'll…"

"Yeah, I know." He sighed. "But Mum and Dad didn't make a will." He told me softly. "And even if they did--it'd have to be a living will, for it to apply to us, because we don't know they're not alive." This conversation had taken a startlingly serious turn, and Wes rolled his neck, revealing his level of discomfort. "And Dean and Monica _are_ our godparents--but without it being official, it doesn't matter. So our family would get us first." I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly.

"Would we even… I mean… I don't think I've even met them." I said slowly.

"Me neither." Wes murmured. "But, I mean, the Wizengamot isn't going to want to put magical minors with muggle adults--right?" Wes asked, but I could tell that he was really just saying it: he didn't expect an answer. Still, I felt kind of sympathetic towards Wes. As creepy as this situation as for me--Mum and Dad gone, no legal guardian, no home--I couldn't imagine being Wes. Wes, who felt responsible for me, and no parents to be the real responsible ones. Until we had actual guardians, Wes was kind of the end of the line for my adults.

"I mean… look, we'll be okay." I told him quietly, glancing at Louis anxiously, before looking back at Wes. "They won't separate us, or anything. And… look, it's just a few years till you're seventeen. We can hang in there." I paused, swallowing past the nervousness that was building a lump in my throat. "Right?"

"Course," Wes said easily. "We're Finnigans. And I'm seventeen in two years and a month--the summer after my sixth year, your third, we'll be on our own. Whatever happens, it's temporary." He paused. "So. I really do want to play in this quidditch game."

"My team." I said quickly, even as Louis came forward.

"Uh, no, you have two quidditch players and Albus who's the best seeker in the family--I get Wes." Louis said quickly.

"You have Teddy!" I protested.

"And _Lily_." He emphasized.

"Louis!" Lily's voice wailed deep within the house, and Louis smacked his forehead. I just scowled at him.

"Nice going," I muttered, and he gaped at me.

"Okay, this is completely--"

"I'm just as good as everyone _else_!" Lily wailed in the doorway, and Wes raised his eyebrows, obviously amused. "_Louis_! Take it _back_!" I looked up at Louis expectantly.

"Louis." I said with mock seriousness. "Take it back."

"_Is_ this a _freaking_ joke--" Louis demanded angrily, waving his hands in the air.

"_Jamesie!_" Lily wailed, turning on the spot and running out of the room, and I laughed softly. Lily reminded me of myself at that age, except I hadn't done a lot of running to Wes. Even back then--Wes was well-behaved, got good grades because he worked hard, and knew not to bring up awkward subjects at the dinner table. I hadn't. I'd resented him, back then.

"Thank you, Sera." Louis said sarcastically, and I jumped to my feet, grinning dazzlingly at him for a moment before I followed Lily, who Mrs. Potter had told me delightedly already considered me like her big sister. I didn't miss Louis's blush, though, as I passed him, and I prayed that Wes hadn't seen it.

I didn't want to reinforce his stupid idea that James and Louis liked me.

---

"Okay, kids, the way _this_ goes is that we are not playing like we play at Hogwarts." Teddy said seriously. "And by that I mean--James, you may not tackle. Or really even try to hit people very hard." The Potters had a kids' set of quidditch balls, all of which were still magical and served their generic purpose, but were squishy, so that in the event bludgers attacked someone (now who would _that_ be? _I_ certainly don't know anyone that's happened to), said someone wouldn't be hurt, really at all. "I don't care that these," Teddy gestured to the box of quidditch balls, "are softer than usual." He looked at me. "Sera, I'm not kidding here--if your head hurts, or your back hurts, or your ankle hurts, just come on down." Wes nodded emphatically in agreement, and I rolled my eyes.

"Or if the bludgers decide to attack you." James added helpfully.

"Or if cloaked men come attack you." Louis offered, and I sighed dramatically.

"So _touchy,_ my lord." I said tiredly. "That hasn't happened in a week!" I grinned at the boys, flying in a circle around Jamie, and Lily giggled from her broom. "C'mon Ted, we all know not to kill each other--Jamie and Lou and I are best friends."

"But you and James and Louis always argue." Lily said in confusion. "And Albus told me you were here because you're James's girlfriend." James turned scarlet, blushing, before his stare turned absolutely lethal as he turned to look at his little brother, who looked extremely alarmed suddenly. James took off on his broom towards him, and Albus turned around and took off. Rose was glaring at Lily.

"We can't tell you _anything_." She complained. "You're such a tattle tale." Teddy was watching James and Albus, and after a second, her turned back to look at me. I felt my face flame as I swallowed nervously, my gaze following James and Albus for a second.

"I'm not James's girlfriend." I said to Lily uncomfortably.

"Yes you are." Lily disputed, frowning, and I blushed redder, glancing at Louis for help, but Louis was looking uncharacteristically sulky as he touched down, lowering his broom. I blinked, surprised, before I glanced up at Teddy and Wes, my eyes wide and kind of panicked. Wes looked as surprised as I felt, so I just lowered my broom after Louis, dropping it on the ground and running to catch up with him, a hand on his arm.

"Louis? I don't--I don't get it." I said quickly, and Louis turned to look at me, looking genuinely angry for a moment, but even as he met my gaze, it softened, to intense annoyance.

"I know, Sera." He said in a steely voice. "You _don't_ get it. That's the problem." He pulled away from me, but I grabbed his shirt sleeve, scowling now.

"Then explain it." I said in frustration. "We're best friends, Lou--you and me and Jamie. Isn't that enough for you to owe me some kind of explanation?" I asked. Louis stared at me, and then relaxed, the tension leaving his body easily as he turned to face me, looking tired.

"Ser, just--look, it doesn't matter, okay?" Louis begged me, and I blinked. Of course it mattered. James was mad at Albus, Louis was _acting_ like he was mad at James and me, though I had no idea whether he actually was or not--of course it mattered.

But Louis obviously really didn't want to talk about it. And we were friends. And sometimes friends let friends drop stuff. Even if it did matter.

I dropped my hand from Louis shirt, chewing on my bottom lip apprehensively. Louis met my gaze apologetically, and I just frowned a little. "What wouldn't you want to tell me?" I asked him quietly. "Just… I mean, I tell you guys everything." I paused, wrapping my arms around myself. "I get it if it's a family thing, or something, or maybe if you guys don't want me to stay here for the rest of break or--"

"No!" Louis said vehemently. "No, Sera, of course we want that." He put his hands on my shoulders, looking me straight in the eye. "I'm sorry for making you think anything else--James is just being a jerk and I was being a jerk and I'm sorry." He murmured, sincere in the way that I knew only Louis would be. James was too proud to apologize straight out--he'd do nice things for you, but he wouldn't apologize outright. And Rory had yet to be mean to me, but I was guessing he was kind of a bad apologizer too. Most boys were bad apologizers, at this age. Except for Louis. "This is just… awkward, okay?" He told me.

Before I could retort, Albus and James hurtled to the ground, Albus hitting the ground and rolling over once as he hit the ground, then stumbling to his feet and running towards me. Albus ducked behind me as James smacked the ground and shot to his feet almost impossibly fast.

"James." I said in a scolding voice, putting my arms out protectively, as James slammed forward and stopped a few feet in front of me, looking absolutely lethal. "Did you or did you not tell me our first night at Hogwarts that you didn't hit your siblings?" I demanded, and James's gaze met mine, suddenly complaining.

"But…" He whined. "He told Lily…" His voice drifted off, turning scarlet as he fell silent, and I blushed a little too. "That we were _dating_." James finished after a second. "And we're not."

"_I_ didn't know that." Albus protested, pleading, behind me. "I mean--Jeez, James, hear me out," He continued as James glared angrily at him, taking a step forward. "Seriously, okay. Victoire and Teddy--you and Sera." Albus said, weighing the two on his hands, and I turned to him, scowling. It didn't matter that this ten-year-old was about as tall as I was--this was ridiculous.

"No." I said flatly, rounding on . "James and I are friends, Louis and I are friends--I don't care what it looks like, that's it." I narrowed my eyes, and Albus's eyes widened. I raised my eyebrows, and James, behind me, made a choking sound. I whirled around.

"Who said anything about you and _Louis_?" James demanded.

"Gallagher, at the dance." Louis supplied, sighed wearily, and James frowned slightly. "Before he said all that other crap." Louis murmured, and James nodded once. "And then Sera _slapped_ him." He said, a small satisfied smile on his face, and James chuckled quietly.

"Wish I'd been there." James murmured.

"You _slapped _someone?" Wes demanded as he walked up, striding forward easily. Teddy was standing beside him, their brooms in their hands. "You were never this violent at home."

"Gallagher wasn't at home." I told him seriously, and he frowned a little, straightening up.

"Gallagher's the kid who split your cheek?" Wes asked after a second, and I nodded. "He's still bothering you? For real?"

"More than bothering." Louis said quietly, and I shot him a look. "What?" Louis demanded, scowling. "He called you a mud blood--"

"Like all of Slytherin does that." I said dismissively, waving my hand. "It's not true, and even if it was, I wouldn't care." I rolled my eyes.

"And he said some stuff about your parents that obviously wasn't okay." He finished.

"And I slapped him so that was the end of that." I said with a tight smile. I was going to give Louis hell for saying this to Wes and Teddy--because even my ex-quidditch captain was developing a protective streak.

"What'd he say about our parents?" Wes demanded, and I swallowed, turning to face my brother. I crossed my arms again, defensively, meeting Wes's gaze with a gentle frown.

"Just some crap, Wes, it doesn't matter--"

"Yeah, that was not your most convincing performance. Spill, kiddo." He said challengingly, staring me down, and I rolled my eyes, looking away.

"He said that they didn't care about me. Enough to respond to my letters or to tell me about their new job." I admitted, watching Wesley's face darken, and I wondered distantly if, when we got back to Hogwarts, whether it was worth warning the Headmistress that Gallagher might be murdered.

"Sera…" Teddy said softly, and I just turned to glare outright at Louis. He just shrugged unapologetically.

"I'm not emotionally traumatized, it's not a problem, I slapped him and I don't think we've talked since." I said shortly.

"In the courtyard." Wes murmured. "Alec told me."

"Okay, I might need to see him just keep you two from talking about me without me present." I said with a frown. "And Louis crushed him like a bug. And then Alec scared him nearly to incontinence. So between myself and my friends and my not-so-badass god brother and big brother I'll somehow survive." I forced a grin, reassuring my friends and more importantly, myself.

I would survive.

---

"I feel stupid." I whined to Victoire as I tugged on the dress I was wearing. It wasn't that I didn't like to wear dresses. I didn't mind it. But this was like, the twelfth I'd tried on. And this was getting tiring. Unfortunately, though, the emptiness of my home--where the hell had all of my furniture gone, by the way?--had led us to me needing to replace a few things that I hadn't brought to Hogwarts with me. Like formal outfits. Which was why I was standing in Madame Malkin's Dress Shop trying on some of their nicest materials and wondering if this was a new form of torture. "This is a weird color."

"It is _green,_ Serafina." Victoire said severely, glaring at me from her chair. I was standing on a dais in front of eight mirrors. There was a wide opening behind me to the actual store. "Green is a nice color and you have green eyes. You're supposed to wear colors that match your eyes." She explained in her overly tolerant voice, and I frowned at her. "Oh, don't make that face, you must know this."

"Okay, I don't do a lot of dress wearing." I told her shortly. "I'm a shorts and jeans girl. I even don't mind a few skirts. But dresses…are unnecessarily formal." I paused, shifting nervously. "And I want to meet up with Alec and Dean and Monica." I admitted in a small voice, and Victoire's expression softened.

"You will, you will--this dress looks nice, and you need one more. Want it?" She demanded. I was buying two dresses--just enough to get through any formal events that might have been coming my way.

"Yes please!" I said desperately, as the doorbell rang, and I spun around as Wes, James, and Teddy walked into the store. I ran down from the dais, immensely relieved, and hugged James tightly. "Save me," I muttered in his ear, and he laughed aloud. "Your sadistic cousin is trying to murder me with fabric…"

"I'm trying to make you look nice!" Victoire complained. "You need dresses, sweetheart. Everyone needs dresses." I pulled back from James to hide behind him, and Victoire laughed softly.

"Sera, kid, change out of the dress and I'll buy the two you need." Wes said exasperatedly, pulling me out from behind James, and he gave me a light shove towards the real dressing rooms. I grabbed my clothes from the chair and, flashing James a grin, I disappeared back into the dressing room, changing quickly back into the skirt I was wearing: polka dots on white with a pink ribbon around the bottom. I pulled on the shirt, before emerging, folding the dress over my arm, and I grabbed the white-and-silver dress I'd also tried on and not rejected, and grinned at Wes as he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and opened it, picking out a few galleons and passing them to me. I smiled tightly at him.

"Thanks," I chimed, grabbing my James and looping my arm through his, dragging him back with me to the cash register. "You took so long!" I hissed at him as soon as we were out of earshot. "I tried on twelve freaking dresses--you were supposed to come in like half an hour ago! Sooner if you thought I needed the back up!" I placed the dresses on the countertop.

"Yeah, because me coming sooner wouldn't have just resulted in me sitting here and having to watch you and contribute." James said with a snort. "And I wasn't about to let _that_ happen."

"I'm sorry, are you Serafina Finnigan?" The woman behind the countertop asked me curiously, and I blinked at her, then nodded, smiling a little uncertainly.

"I'm sorry, have we met?" I asked unsurely.

"Oh, my--Tori, you'll never guess who's here--" The woman squealed, suddenly turning around, and I felt my mouth drop open. This story hadn't actually been so publicized that this was _acutally_ happening.

To be fair, though, I wouldn't necessarily know that. I hadn't really left the Potters', or the Weasleys' for any place but the other since the attack and the public revealing of

"Who?" An older woman stepped out from the door behind the counter. "Oh, Merlin, Ally--Serafina Finnigan."

"Um, Hi." I said awkwardly, glancing at James nervously. James just raised his eyebrows. He had no more idea what was happening than I did.

"Sweetheart, I am _so_ sorry about your parents." The new woman gushed, leaning over the countertop. "I couldn't believe what the Ministry is doing for you--Bureaucratic nonsense is always going to be there, but it's depriving you of your parents now! My _God_!" I blinked, startled.

"Um, Thanks." I said slowly. "And, um, I don't want to be rude. But. D'you know how much the dresses are?"

"Oh, nothing, sweetheart, not for you--I heard your house was completely gone! You can have whatever you want." She said sincerely, and I blinked, glancing down at the prices on the dresses and then counting out ten galleons, pressing them across the counter. "Oh my _God_, you are so sweet! _Look_ at this, Allison, I told the darling that it was--" I felt Wes's arm slip around my shoulders, and I looked up at my brother with wide eyes. Wes was smiling politely but a little distantly at the women. "Oh, my God, it's Wesley Finnigan, _too_!" Her gaze finally landed on James and Teddy, now, who had his arm around Victoire's waist. "And Teddy Lupin! How cute!" The woman turned to Teddy. "Oh, my God I have a niece who just idolizes your mother--are you helping the Finnigans get through the loss of their parents?"

"Sera, James, go outside, please," Teddy said in a perfectly polite voice, and James grabbed my hand, pulling me away from my brother and outside, now, where I turned to gape at James.

"Did that just happen?" I demanded. "_Really_? Does anyone on earth--I mean, God! She--what the hell was that about Teddy and--has she ever heard of _personal business_?" I ran a frantic hand through my hair, and James watched me stonily. James had really stopped being this way around me, mostly, but he did this when he was upset. "And she just--my parents aren't dead!" I said in a panic. "They _might_ be, but they might _not_ be too, and who the hell _says_ something like that to a person?" I demanded frantically. "What kind of self-respecting human being _does_ that?" I asked him.

"Sera?" Alec's voice asked behind me, and I turned to face my god brother, my eyes wide as I stared at him. Dean was standing beside him, looking serious, but I ignored him and ran straight into Alec, wrapping my arms around him. He grinned, obviously not catching onto the serious mood of the conversation that had just occurred. "Hey," He said softly. I pulled back from him.

"I just got asked if I was Serafina Finnigan and then a woman offered her condolences for my parents death--they're not _dead_ yet--and she told me to take the clothes for free but when I tried to pay her Wes came over with Teddy and Jamie and Victoire and then she asked Teddy if he was helping me and Wes through our parents' death." I said quickly, my voice super fast, putting my hands on Alec's shoulders, and Alec blinked, then his gaze turned murderous, looking past me.

"I'm going to kill this woman." Alec muttered, and I sighed anxiously, glancing back. James was hanging back a bit, looking kind of awkward, and Alec put his arm around my shoulders, glaring a little at James. "Wes is in there dealing with this, I s'pose?"

"Nope, I'm right here." Wes said easily as he came out, quickly followed by Teddy and Victoire. "Hi Dean, Alec." I realized I hadn't said hi to my godfather yet, and I turned to him, smiling a little uncertainly. Dean smiled gently at me.

"Hey Sera." He said lightly. "I thought we could grab lunch--Wes told me you guys were coming down here." I turned my gaze back to Wes, my smile turning to an accusatory scowl, and Wes just shrugged.

"Hey, I lost Hogsmeade and Quidditch in this deal, and I made up with him." Wes said. "You be nice." I frowned, then stuck out my tongue at Wes super maturely, and he glanced at James. "Sera'll catch up with you in a second, Potter." He told James, and I stared at Wes. He ignored me, though, looking over my head to meet Dean's gaze, and I saw the seriousness in his gaze. When had my fourteen-year-old brother grown up so much?

"Sera, I want to talk about what happened that day in the hospital wing." Dean said quietly, behind me, and I turned to face him warily. He looked nice, but I knew--Dean and Monica hadn't been telling Wes and I everything. And if anyone in this disastrous situation had needed to know everything, it was Wes and me. "Let's go sit--there's a nice restaurant right there, we can eat, talk." Dean suggested, and I bit my lip.

"All right." I murmured, crossing my arms over my chest.

In moments we were seated at an outside table, and I watched my godfather carefully, not even bothering to check the menu. "Sera," He said quietly as he settled himself in his chair. "I'm sorry for the way Mon and I acted, when Wes was in the hospital wing. We were obviously tired and stressed, but that was no excuse for the way we sprang you two no longer playing quidditch on you." I said nothing, and Dean seemed to be unnerved. "And while we are allowing Wes to resume quidditch…" Wes sat straight up at this, hearing the same thing I did in his sentence. "You cannot." I glared at him. "Sera," Dean continued pleadingly. "Sweetheart, these attacks are vicious and you being up in the air on a broom, away from any adults--that's a problem. Monica and I are responsible for your safety until your parents return or until your seventeenth birthday."

"I can't believe this." I hissed, glaring at Dean. "Hogwarts has taken new precautions--I'll be fine, Dean. There's a teacher supervising each practice now." I sat back in my chair. "And you're still not telling me everything you know."

"I missed something." Wes said slowly, glancing between Dean and me, as Dean ran a hand down his face tiredly, and Alec nodded in agreement. "What's going on?"

"Sera, Wes--" Dean cut himself off, sighing. "Okay, to say that there has been no word on your parents--that's a lie." I felt the blood in my veins turn to ice, and I stared at Dean, fear clenching my heart.

"What the--dammit, Dean." Wes growled. "What the hell did they say?"

"They didn't contact us directly, Wesley." Dean corrected softly, and I bit my lip. "Photographs and notes were dropped off at the Auror Office, in November." Dean sighed. "They didn't say anything, of note, not really, but… Monica and I didn't want to tell you. You two have enough on your plates already. You don't need this."

"Why wouldn't they just be declared MIA then?" Wes asked slowly, frowning.

"Because they were doing something undercover and the idea was to make sure that the kidnappers didn't find out their real names." I felt another, healthy dose of fear tip into my bloodstream, and I bit my lip, crumpling my napkin in my lap.

"But they know…now." I said slowly. "Our pictures are--everywhere." I waved a vague hand in the air, and Dean nodded slowly. "So, they're…" I bit my lip. "This is my--"

"Hey," Wes said warningly, turning to look at me seriously. "Not your fault." He told me shortly, and I ducked my head, looking at the table. "Dean, I…I can't believe you wouldn't tell us all of this." Wes shook his head. "It's been two months, now, that Mom and Dad have been missing. And you knew something and you didn't…" Wes sighed, as the waitress came over. "Ser, c'mon, we're leaving."

"Wes, I was just trying to protect you guys, it wasn't like we learned so much from these notes and photographs--" Dean said pleadingly.

"You knew more than we did about our own parents' disappearance. Does that seem right to you?" Wes demanded angrily, and I stood up and slipped out, pushing my chair back into the table. Wes got up too, pushing my dress bag at me, and I caught it, following him with a darkened gaze.

All of the grown ups had been fully functional in my life, until my first year at Hogwarts. And now? My parents were gone, my godfather wasn't telling us things that we obviously needed to know.

I really wanted to go back to school.


	17. This Ship Was Built To Last

Chapter 18

"Louis..." I wheedled, my voice pleading. I was sitting in the back of the Weasleys' car, beside my best friend, my arms wrapped around myself as I tried to keep a handle on the sweatshirt I hadn't yet returned to Louis. It'd been a week since Wes and I had walked away from Dean and Alec in Diagon Alley, and the Daily Prophet and a letter from the Minister the next day had informed me that Seamus and Elizabeth Finnigan were officially missing. Louis's father, who was an auror, had taken on the case, and I'd been placed, temporarily, in his and Mrs. Weasley's custody—just until I went back to Hogwarts, at which point Wes and I would be in the joint custody of Professor Longbottom and Headmistress Patil. But the fact of it was that these were all temporary fixes. At the end of the day, Wes and I were still homeless and parent-less. The Ministry was just trying to stave off more bad press by doing this until the trial, which had been set for April 7th.

That seemed impossibly far away, though.

"SerBear, don't do that." Louis whined, breaking me out of my reverie. "It's not like I'm trying to be rude, I just want my stupid sweatshirt." Louis complained.

"But it's warm. And big. And _fuzzy_." I grinned at Louis as he rolled his eyes.

"It's a Chudley Cannons sweatshirt." Louis pointed out, running a hand over his shiny blond hair in his frustration. "You think the Cannons are the stupidest team in the league, I've fought you on it a hundred times."

"First off," I began, holding a hand up to stop my friend. "The Roman Red Caps are better." Louis's jaw dropped, and I rushed to continue before he cut me off. "Second: although I do have a moral problem with the label on this sweatshirt, I think the Red Caps would forgive me considering that it's like twenty five degrees outside and I only have a dress on under this."

"Why the hell do you like the _Red Caps_?" Louis demanded. "They're not even in our league—it must be a pain in the butt to see them play. You'd have to get a portkey and everything."

"Never been to a game." I acknowledged. "But Mum speaks Italian and translates stuff for me when we listen to the radio." I shrugged with a tight smile, and Louis watched me sympathetically. "She even taught me a little so I can listen to it myself." I shrugged as Louis frowned, looking concerned, and I swallowed nervously. I hated when my parents came up, and they never had, before they'd disappeared. And now they did. Of course. "Anyway." I said breezily, forcing a smile. "This sweatshirt is mine."

"The second you take it off, I'm stealing it back."

"You fight like a girl." Victoire observed from the front seat, turning back to face us. She was sitting in the passenger seat, with Mr. Weasley driving: Mrs. Weasley had stayed home with Dominique. "That kind of manipulative, strategic, thing? That's a girl thing.

"Shut up." Louis shot at Victoire.

"Louis, Vic, play nicely or I'll have to put you in a time out." Mr. Weasley said with a frown for his older child, and Victoire gaped at him while Louis rolled his eyes.

"Sera stole my sweatshirt." Louis shot back. "Why isn't that part of this?"

"Because Sera's your best friend, not my child." Mr. Weasley informed his son. "And if she wants to steal your stuff, she means it good naturedly, and thus, I don't have a problem with it. It's your responsibility." Mr. Weasley flashed me a grin in the rearview mirror, and I straightened up and saluted him: he chuckled, looking back at the busy street we were on.

"Is this a _freaking joke_?" Louis demanded, staring at his father, but Mr. Weasley didn't spare him a glance.

"And aside from that, Louis, I grew up with five little brothers and a little sister—do you really want to talk to me about stuff stealing?" Mr. Weasley demanded, looking at his son in the rearview mirror as he pulled into a parking spot across the street from Kings' Cross Station.

"That's unfair." Louis complained as we got out of the car.

"Louis." Mr. Weasley shot out, scowling outright at his youngest, and Louis fell silent, wisely. I bit my lip, smothering the urge to giggle, and Louis shoved my shoulder. I stuck my tongue out at him as I rounded the car, and then someone's hands covered my eyes. I fought the sudden surge of panic in my chest—I was fairly sure I was developing PTSD from all the attacks, recently—as I realized that the hands were James's and I rounded on him, glaring at him as I punched his chest ineffectively, swallowing against my unnecessary panic.

"You scared me, dork!" I told him, a little louder than necessary, and he chuckled, hugging me, and after a moment of resistance, I hugged him back. I hadn't seen James since Friday, it now being Sunday, and for us, who had literally seen each other every single day since September, that was a long while. "Way to greet a person." I grumbled, but I hugged him tightly. I pulled away after we'd hugged for a moment longer than entirely comfortable, and I studied James's face: he'd gone stony again, but his face was a little flushed. Was he blushing, or just cold? I couldn't tell. "C'mon, I need to get my trunk out of their—thank you!" I said easily as Mr. Weasley lifted my trunk down.

"You're very welcome—but kids, it's 8:45, we're cutting it kind of close here." Mr. Weasley told us seriously. He turned to James's mother, who was walking up, a big smile on her face. "Hey, Gin," He said to his little sister, pulling her to him in a one-armed hug.

"Hi, but you're right, we've gotta get going inside." Mrs. Potter said, putting a hand on her son's back, and James squirmed uncomfortably. "I'll get the kids inside if you'll apparate ahead with the trunks. James's is already inside." She continued, as Mr. Weasley glanced around. "Harry and Teddy brought it in when they went in."

"Perfection, thanks kid." Mr. Weasley said happily, and he grabbed my trunk, and Louis's. "Wait, where'd—Victoire already caught up to Teddy." He said in a resigned voice, looking towards the blond head bobbing beside the brown one in front of the Kings' Cross Entrance. Louis pulled a face, and James slung his arm around my shoulders. "Jesus, those kids are like you and Harry all over again." Bill made an expression startlingly similar to Louis's current expression, and I had to hide my face in James's shoulder to keep from giggling. "That was a disaster." I turned out of James's chest, lifting my head to grin at him, and he just watched me, a hot red blush creeping up his neck, and I blinked, my laughter dying on my lips.

Why'd everything have to get awkward so fast?

"Mmm Hmm." Ginny agreed placidly. "I've heard that women marrying men and living happy lives filled with laughter and their three wonderful children is horrific." Bill shot an irritated look at Ginny before grabbing my trunk and Louis's and disapparating with a bang.

"C'mon, kids, let's go." Ginny said easily, and Louis tugged on the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

"I want this back on the train." He told me seriously. I flashed him a grin.

"Only if you can catch me." I said, taking off, and James laughed loudly while Louis groaned. Both boys took off after me, and I just sped up, laughing. I ran across the street and into the station, passing a few other Hogwarts families, and I kept running, right onto Platform 9 ¾, where I slammed straight into Alec.

My godbrother caught me as I stumbled, with an _oof_ sound as I knocked the air out of him, and I winced, looking up at him apologetically. "Sorry Alec—hey!" I hugged him tightly, and he chuckled shortly, patting my back. "I haven't seen you in forever, how are you?"

"Good—shit, your eye still hasn't healed." He said disappointedly as he pulled away, and I self-consciously reached up a hand to touch it: Alec gave me a half-smile, looking apologetic. "Sorry, it's not that bad," He said tiredly, inspecting the still-bruised portion of my face, and I squirmed uncomfortably. "Crap, kid, stop getting into these scrapes."

"Yeah, yeah, you and Wes keep telling me that." I shrugged unapologetically, then glanced back at James and Louis, who'd just emerged through the entrance to the platform. I hesitated, then ignored them, turning back to Alec. "How was break? I'm sorry I missed you the entire time--but by the time the Ministry decided Mum and Dad were missing, Mr. Weasley was my temporary guardian, and then--get this--Professor Longbottom and Headmistress Patil are going to be my joint guardians while I'm at Hogwarts. How much of a joke is this?" I put my hand on my hip, running my other one through my hair stressfully, and Alec was watching me darkly. "God, this sucks. I wish someone would just give Dean and Monica custody already. That's the only way this is going to work out."

"You still want my parents to have custody?" Alec demanded, genuine surprise in his voice, and I nodded hurriedly, sighing shortly. "Even after what Dad did? Not telling you about the note, and the pictures? And cutting you and Wes from quidditch?" I sighed shortly: this really did sound bad when grouped together like that. But the fact of it was, I had to be kind of mature. And I needed to cut my losses here.

The fact of it was, the notes, and the pictures--Mr. Weasley hadn't allowed me to see the pictures, but I'd gotten the basic gist of it: they were just my parents, tied up in an unidentified empty room. And the notes were vague and threatening and scary, but not specific enough to allow us to use them for information. So yeah, it'd been wrong of Dean to keep this stuff from us. But it hadn't actually, actively, done any damage. Dean had wanted to protect us. And it'd been the wrong way. But it'd been...a good effort. So as long as he didn't do it again (and I was fairly sure he wasn't going to), we were A-okay.

And Dean had already said he planned on maybe letting Wes and I back on the quidditch team. So that was good. Wes was still going to lose Hogsmeade, but following my attack in Hogsmeade, that might have been a good idea anyway. Hogsmeade wasn't like Hogwarts Grounds, wasn't filled with teachers and other students. There weren't thousand-year protections in Hogsmeade, or at least not at the level there were in Hogwarts.

Also, it wasn't like I was walking around with enough grownups at my disposal that I could write a few off.

"Okay, well, I'm not exactly your parents' biggest fan right now, but I'm kind of okay with them." I paused, shrugging. "And I know that they're not actual sadists." I smiled a little at Alec, but he didn't look particularly convinced. "And besides, the alternative is Mum's parents." I shuddered, shaking my head. "And they're muggles. And I've never met them. And they kind of hate Mum. And magic. And being Mum's magical child would put me on their hitlist, I'm fairly sure." I paused, shrugging a little, and Alec's face darkened before he squeezed my shoulder lightly.

"Mum and Dad'll get you." He told me softly. "They love you and Wes--they're not going to let some stupid muggles get you, even if there is no will." I smiled at Alec, surprised at how sincere he was being. Alec was better at being sarcastic and badass than he was at being sincere and kind of _nice_. But every once and a while, he made an effort.

"I want my sweatshirt back." Louis told me as he popped up beside me, before realizing I was talking to Alec, and he took a step back, looking kind of alarmed as Alec scowled darkly at the boy. Alec's scowl could deter entire armies. James, behind Louis now and looking grateful for the barrier between Alec and himself, glanced at me, searching my expression. "Or not." Louis continued in a dazed voice after a second.

I laughed quietly, shooting Alec a grateful look and then taking a step back from him. "Kay, I'll see you on the train, Al." I grinned half-heartedly at him, and he just nodded once, slowly, then turned away, crossing his arms across his chest as he went back to his group of friends, and I turned back to James and Louis. Louis looked kind of frightened, still, but James was studying me in _that_ way--James could almost read my mind, sometimes, in terms of what I was feeling. James, for all that there were times that I sincerely doubted he was in possession of actual emotions and the ability to express them, really did seem to make an effort with me, even though he didn't with anyone else. Even with Louis, I wondered sometimes whether they would be friends if they weren't trying.

"You okay?" James asked lowly, taking a step around Louis, brushing my arm with the tips of his fingers, and I nodded, forcing a smile. The longer I faked being okay, the easier it got--I wasn't sure whether that was good or bad, though.

"C'mon, lets go get a compartment." I said after a second, and James didn't say anything, just met my gaze solemnly, telling me everything I needed to know: he wasn't falling for this act. James wouldn't have fallen for any act--that was the problem with having a friend who actually cared enough to make an effort. He knew me well enough that I couldn't tell him anything without him

"I just saw Mr. Corner." Louis said quietly, having caught on that I wasn't feeling my best. And while Louis wasn't falling for this little charade anymore than James was, he also had about ten times James's diplomacy, and could tell I didn't particularly want to talk about anything. "I bet Rory's around here somewhere." I nodded, and then Jamie, followed me Louis and I, stepped onto the Hogwarts Express.

We were finally going back to school.

---

"I'm so jealous of you guys." Rory whined as we climbed through the portrait hole that evening after dinner. We were all in our school robes, but I'd tied my lighter-than-caramel hair into two soft braids in an effort to keep my hair out of my face. We'd played exploding snap on the train, and there was a point in the game where long-haired girls (and boys, but I didn't really know any of those) had an unfortunate opportunity to have their hair catch on fire, and it'd been a communal agreement we'd like to avoid that. "I had to go to Canada to visit my dad's parents--with only my brother for company. You three were together all holiday."

"Yeah, but Canada's cool. They've got..." My voice drifted off, and I made a face, trying to think of something. Rory shook his head, pressing his lips together.

"Don't even try." He said shortly. "Conan played or watched Ice Hockey the entire time and then got smashed in the face with the puck. And Logan threw a tantrum at the Ice Rink when we tried to get him to come ice skating with us--" Logan was Rory's four-year-old brother, who was _incredibly_ cute.

"That sounds fun." James said dryly, and Rory glared at him. "Well considering that between these two we must have spent most of break either at the hospital or on bed rest, it wasn't like we spent the entire time having a fun time." James gestured at Louis and me, and I raised an eyebrow at him.

"James, your life is so hard!" I said with false pity. "Your friends were attacked and that meant you couldn't play with them--I'm _so _sorry." I rolled my eyes at Louis, who just shook his head with mock disappointment.

"Shuttup." James muttered, blushing as he shoved my shoulder, and I rolled my eyes.

"I'm gonna go upstairs to change out of my robe--don't disappear on me, okay? Cause I think Malcolm will actually pop a fuse if he catches me in your dorm again." I grinned at the boys as I backpedaled towards the girls' dorms. I turned and jogged up the stairs, wishing that the first years' dorm was lower in this tower than it was: five minutes and a serious loss of breath later, I tapped my wand on my door and turned the door knob, pushing open the door.

I stopped dead in the doorway.

The room was plastered in newspaper articles. The newspapers after the first attack, in the forest, all of the newspapers since the Diagon Alley attacks, the pictures of my parents, the pictures of Wes and me and Louis and Jamie and Alec and Dean and Monica. They were all up on the walls.

I took a shaky breath, biting my lip as I tried not to cry. Daisy was such...God this was just cruel. Daisy and Brian and everyone else were mean, sometimes, sure, and I could take that. But this... this was the pictures of my parents waving out at me from the walls. Someone'd scribbled _something_ on the walls, but I didn't really have the heart to read it, not with the way my lungs felt smothered and the lump in my throat had grown and was threatening to make me cry. "Oh--God." I muttered, thankful, suddenly, for how my dorm was empty, and I crossed slowly to my bed, pressing my fingers to my lips as tears built in my eyes. "Dammit." I waved my wand vaguely at the wall, slicing through the paper on the wall and watching them waft to the floor easily. I sank down on my bed, pressing my face into my hands, tears streaking out of my eyes, and I sobbed softly. I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down, but another sob broke out, and I grabbed my pillow, pressing my face into it. If one of the other girls in my dorm came up, I wasn't sure what I was going to do.

I must have stayed like that for longer than I'd intended, because I heard the door open, and Edie was standing in the doorway, looking kind of shell-shocked as she glanced around our vandalised dormitory. "Oh, Sera, I'm..." Her voice drifted off.

"I don't want to hear it, Edie." I muttered tiredly, rising from the bed and scrubbing embarrassedly at my red, teary face. "I'm sure you--"

"I didn't know about this, Sera." Edie said, sounding shocked.

"Of course you didn't." I said sarcastically, tearing down some newspapers and crumpling them in my fist. "You're best friends with Daisy and Bethany and Aileen and I know at least one of them was behind this." I gestured to the rest of the room.

"Yeah, and I realize that you and me aren't exactly friends." Edie said softly. "But I don't...not like you. I think you're perfectly nice, just a lot of people don't like you. And it's hard." I turned to face Edie, and I searched her gaze, not quite ready to forgive yet. "Sera, I swear to God, I didn't do this. I'll help you clean it up--it'll be gone by the time the rest of them get up here. Rory just asked me to come upstairs to tell you to come down." I paused. Edie seemed pretty serious about this. Daisy and Company would have bailed by now, admitted their crime so we could move onto the witty banter.

"Alright, I believe you, just--don't tell Rory, Louis or Jamie, okay?" I asked quietly, watching Edie carefully to make sure she looked like she had every intention of keeping this actually quiet. "They won't get--Just don't, please," I said stressfully, and Edie nodded, tearing down some of the newspapers and throwing them in the trashcan beside Daisy's bed.

"I won't." She paused, turning to me. "Look, I'm sorry. I know Daisy hasn't made it easy on you, being Louis and James's friend and all." Edie bit her lip, looking torn. "I'd talk to her about it but Aileen and I are best friends and she and Daisy are super close..." I nodded in defeat. I knew all of this--Edie wasn't a bad person. Just a follower. And it sucked, and it made my life harder, but she wasn't doing it on purpose, so I wasn't going to give her too hard a time about it. "I am sorry though."

"Yeah, I know." I paused, looking at Edie. "So she... like wants to be friends with the boys instead of me?" I questioned, a little confused, as we both continued to rip things down. I didn't really understand all of this--especially not how Daisy assumed that James and Louis were such bad judges of character that they'd fall for her tricks.

"Eh, sorta." Edie shrugged. "Daisy's jealous." She confided in me after a second, and I frowned at her, swallowing. That was...unexpected. Edie must have caught some of my skepticism, because she nodded emphatically. "James is...well, James." I blinked at her. Edie turned to face me, looking genuinely surprised that I wasn't catching on to what she was saying. "Oh, c'mon, you know this. James is all mysterious and bad boy and Louis is so much easier to talk to and his hair is kind of gorgeous." She said, and I felt my stomach twist uncomfortably.

"Um." I said after a second. "That's nice and all." There was a pause. "I don't actually talk about the guys like that." I shrugged self-consciously, tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear, and I pause in front of one of the pictures of my family, my parents waving up at me. It'd been a while since I'd last seen my parents, and I was horrified to realize that Mum and Dad looked different than how I remembered them. Not horrifyingly--just little stuff. The way Dad's nose was kind of flat on the top, and how Mum's eyebrows kind of ended early, making her look kind of permently bemused. How Dad's once only-sandy blond hair was going a little gray, his hairline receding, and how Mum's hair was always down, covering like half of her face in photographs, but how otherwise she always had her hair up.

What else had I forgotten? What had I forgotten that a photograph couldn't show me?

"That your family?" Edie asked me softly, probably mostly out of politeness: she hadn't met my family, obviously, and it was kind of awkward to be like: "oh, hey, cute family, recognize them from the paper." But everyone knew the Finnigans--we were a household name. Not yet at Harry Potter level, but with the impending custody trial, my best friend's family's fame and the drama my family managed to embroil itself into, we were rapidly getting there.

"Yeah." I swallowed.

"You guys look happy." She noted. I bit my lip, before I folded the paper in half and slid it into my pocket. Edie seemed to be a little saddened by this, because what she said next was genuinely apologetic: "I know it's not my fault and all, but I'm really sorry about your parents, Sera." She said softly after a moment, and I sighed, looking up at her.

"Thanks." I said shortly, crossing to the other side of the room and attacking the last portion of the wall that had newspaper plastered all over it. I tore the last sheet down and dropped it in the trash bin beside my own bed, and took two steps away before I turned and seared it with a spell from my wand. I hesitated, then turned away, to face Edie.

"Let's go back downstairs." I said tiredly.

"I'm actually gonna stay up here, write a letter back home." Edie admitted softly, blushing a little bit, and I felt a surge of sympathy surge in me: having parents wasn't a crime. Edie should write home, and if we were going to be sort of friends, she should be okay with saying that. Even if I couldn't write home.

"It's okay." I said with a surprisingly easy smile. "I'm still gonna head down, though. Jamie'll be wondering where I am..." I paused, awkwardly taking a few steps towards the door than awkwardly stopping. "I guess... bye."

"See you later." She agreed nervously, waving a little, and I stepped out the door, closing the door behind me and jogging down the steps. Were Edie and I friends now? With James and Louis and I--it'd been almost immediate, like a friendship pact to survive Hogwarts or something. With Edie, it was now so late in the year that we had enough friends to survive--anyone else we decided to be friends with, it was completely a choice. And I wasn't sure I wanted someone like Edie--someone so unwilling to stand up for me or even with me to Daisy and Bethany, who were the main offenders.

I stepped into the common room as Daisy began to brush past me on her way onto the stair case, and then she stopped, turning to face me. "Did you like the new decor?" She asked me snidely, and I stared straight ahead for a second, glaring, before I turned to her with a falsely charming smile. I couldn't show her that she'd gotten to me, no matter how much I wanted to go batshit crazy on her.

"What decor?" I asked innocently, before I turned and walked back to the boys.

I would win this war, for better or for worse.

---

"At least this is a good picture." I said tiredly over my complimentary copy of Witch Weekly the next morning. On the cover there was a picture from the train station yesterday, when I'd hugged James outside of Kings' Cross--I didn't know how I'd somehow missed the photographer, but apparently, I had. I tossed the magazine onto the table and ran a hand through my hair, ignoring the curious looks people were shooting me: they'd realize I wasn't that fun to watch, in a few minutes.

"My parents are going to actually kill someone." James muttered. "This is bad." I glanced up at him apologetically, and he met my gaze, immediately realizing what effect his words would have on me. He shook his head infinitesimally: this wasn't my fault.

But it kind of was.

"Wes wanted to know when we were in magazines." I said tiredly, glancing down the table at where my older brother was laughing with some of his friends. "And newspapers and stuff." I sighed, sitting back in my seat properly, glancing at Louis. "I don't wanna tell him."

"Then don't." Louis suggested, and I blinked at him: that suggestion was more of a James thing than a Louis one. "He won't be able to do anything, it'll make him pissed, and you'll be sad. Don't show it to him." I raised my eyebrows, before I nodded decisively. I agreed on all counts, and besides that, I was kind of chicken.

"Hey, Ser, Professor Longbottom asked me to give this to you." Edie said, coming up to me and passing me a note, and I smiled a brief thank you to her, even as she moved on. I glanced up at my legal guardians--Longbottom was studiously buttering his toast, but Professor Patil met my gaze and smiled a little: I smiled shyly back, looking down at the note in my hands as I tore the envelope open and took out the actual paper. I glanced over it before I grinned hugely up at Jamie and Louis, both of whom, sitting on the other side of the table, looked kind of surprised.

"I'm back on the quidditch team!" I said with a huge grin, and James's mouth dropped open while his face lit up. I jumped to my feet and scrambled down the table towards Teddy, and I dropped the note in front of him, too excited to form coherent words. Teddy raised his eyebrows, glancing up at me, before he lifted the note and read it. He grinned.

"Congrats Squirt, you're back on the team." I grinned, grabbing the note back and taking back off towards James and Louis, who looked really, really pleased.

"I'm back, I'm back, I'm back!" I chanted as I threw the note down on top of the Witch Weekly, grinning at my best friends as I slid back into my seat, turning to grin outright at Professor Longbottom and the Headmistress. Both met my gaze with amused smiles, and I just turned back to my friends. "I love this." I told them with a happy grin. "This is freaking great."

Stuff was getting better. Finally, finally, finally. I could make it through this.


	18. Next In Line

Chapter 18

"I'm so freaking tired of Potions." James murmured to me as we leaned over his Potions homework, trying to force the questions in front of us to reveal some kind of obvious answer to us. "Legitimately. I spend like twelve hours on my homework every night."

It'd been two weeks since we'd gotten back to school, and everything had fallen into an odd kind of normal pattern—every couple of days, Wes and I would get called down to Longbottom's office to discuss any developments in my parents' case (there hadn't been any), and we had quidditch practice every day that Grace, Nelly and Duane couldn't talk Teddy out of it. And we had homework. So much homework.

"At least your potions partner isn't Daisy!" I protested in a whisper, glancing at him over the paper before I looked back down at it, rolling my eyes as I reached out and scratched out a sentence he'd written and began to rewrite it: he'd basically made up most of this essay. "She's the partner from hell—she actually messes stuff up sometimes, just to get me a bad grade." I told him as I carefully changed my handwriting to make it look more like James's. "Even though she gets one too." I sighed explosively. "She cares more about making my Potions grade bad than she does about having good grades. It's insane. I hate her!" James snorted in laughter, and I scowled at him. "You have Louis. Stop laughing. Louis is smarter than both of us put together and isn't trying to effectively make you fail the class. He's Daisy's polar opposite."

"Thank you." Louis said, sounding pleased as he sat down at the table with us, dropping his books heavily on the table. "That's a pretty sincere compliment, coming from you."

"You're welcome." I told him with a grin. "So. The Holiday Dance is Saturday." I pointed out, looking back down at the paper, knowing that the boys got awkward whenever a dance rolled around. The fact of it was, the Holiday Dance was awkward—it was always after the actual holidays, for one reason or another. "Are we going?"

"Please God No." James murmured dryly, earning a smirk from me. I scratched out another sentence on his homework, and he frowned. "What was wrong with that sentence?" He demanded.

"_This_," I pointed out the second word, "Is not a word." James scowled, then looked down at it. He blinked, then snorted and ducked his head, snatching his paper back. I rolled my eyes at Louis, who was looking a little contemplative.

"We could go." Louis said slowly. "I mean, we wouldn't have to stay for the entire thing."

"Yeah, I was thinking along the same lines." I pulled my hair up into a ponytail, wrapping my scrunchy around my hair, then pulling it through and looping it around again. "I mean, we could just do what we did with the Halloween Dance. Except, you know, James wouldn't flip out." I continued, with a wry grin at Jamie, and he blushed a little, not looking up from his paper.

"I didn't flip out." James muttered.

"Um, yeah, you kind of did." Louis said honestly.

"Shut up," James growled darkly at his cousin, and I yawned tiredly, leaning against Jamie and resting my head on his shoulder. I closed my eyes and James hesitated then carefully rested his cheek against my hair. "You okay?" He asked me quietly.

"I would be if you would agree to come to the dance." I murmured to him, and James paused, then chuckled.

"You actually thought I'd fall for that manipulative crap?" He murmured in my ear, and I grinned, looking up at him hopefully. James shook his head insistently, then he scowled. "Eh, stop making that face." James muttered. "I'm not being mean. Dances suck."

"Dances don't completely suck." I disagreed. "And you were at the last one for all of ten minutes--why d'you assume they all suck from that?" I demanded.

"Because they do." James said definitively, and I exchanged glances with Louis. James was being a pain in the butt on purpose, now. "Seriously, Sera. You know I'll do a lot of stuff, but I don't want to go to the dance." James told me seriously, and I tucked a few strands of hair that had fallen out of my ponytail behind my ear. "Besides, it's not like any of us had loads of fun at the last dance. Gallagher was a jerk and I hated it and left and you guys left like ten seconds later--"

"Fine, fine, you don't have to go." I told him, rolling my eyes. "Merlin."

"Sera?" Neil, James and Louis's roommate, asked from behind me, and I turned to him expectantly, smiling a little when I saw him. Neil was Indian, like Divya, and I thought he'd told me at some point that they were cousins or something, but I couldn't quite remember--I knew they were related though. "Uh, Greg's outside--he wanted to talk to you, or something?" Neil said nervously, and I frowned. There was only one Greg in our year--Greg Landau. Slytherin, Brian Gallagher's best friend.

"Greg Landau?" I clarified, just to make sure, and Neil nodded. I frowned, rising to my feet and crossing my arms across my chest as I strode towards the portrait hole. I clambered out, and barely a step away from the exit, the portrait of the Fat Lady swung shut behind me, determinedly keeping out the slytherin boy in front of me. "Uh, hey," I said to him, walking forward.

"Hi." He said nervously. I watched him carefully, studying the boy.

"How'd you find the common room?" I asked randomly, then blushed as I recognized how out-of-the-blue that was.

"My brother's in Gryffindor--Eli?" He said. "He's a fourth year, I think he's friends with your brother but I don't really know--"

"Yeah, they're best friends." I nodded. "Eli's really nice. I'm on the quidditch team with him." Greg nodded, and I considered this--Greg and Eli were brothers. That was... insane. Eli was quiet and nice. Greg was loud and... Gallagher's best friend.

"Sera, um...so. You know the dance? On Friday?" He asked me, and I nodded once, watching him carefully: what was going _on_? I hadn't spent this long a time with Greg without getting insulted since I'd met him. "I wanted to know if you maybe wanted to go with me." He asked, his words now coming out in a rush. I blinked.

Greg Landau had just asked me to the dance.

"_Really_?" I asked after a second. Greg stared at me--this obviously wasn't the answer he'd been expecting. And now I felt stupid for saying it. A felt the hot blush climb onto my cheeks, turning my freckled face pink, and I shrugged my shoulders. "I mean... you hate me." I clarified--then I narrowed my eyes. This was too weird--and exactly that _too_ weird. Even for Hogwarts. "This is a joke." I accused. "You're planning some kind of elaborate prank or--"

"No." Greg said quickly, shaking his head, his eyes wide with what looked like genuine nervousness. "No. I mean--Brian doesn't know I'm here. He'd kick my ass."

"Oh." I stopped--this sounded honest enough. But I couldn't be too sure. "If this is a prank, then you know that between James, Louis, Rory and myself, you'll never see the light of day again, right?" I clarified, and Greg smiled weakly. This was confusing.

"Yeah, I know." He murmured.

"Okay." I ran a hand through my hair. "I guess, um, sure. I'll go with you to the dance." I smiled a little, then stopped. "Don't you hate me?" I asked after a second. "I mean, you _act_ like you hate me." I continued, frowning. "Like with Brian. You and Brian hate me."

"I don't hate you." He told me defensively. "Brian--we don't--it's hard to explain." He fell silent, and I nodded in understanding: most everything in my life was hard to explain, at this point. "So you're coming with me?" He clarified, and I nodded. He grinned a little. "Oh, cool. Um, okay, I'm gonna go back to my dormitory then." He hesitated, then stepped foward and kissed me on the cheek, then pulled away and smiled again. He turned and began to walk down the hall, and I just stared straight ahead for a moment before I frowned.

I turned back to the portrait hole and the Fat Lady didn't even demand a password before she swung open, and I climbed back inside, biting my lip to keep from smiling. I crossed back to where James and Louis and now Rory were sitting, and James just looked up at me, raising one eyebrow, watching me until I sat down.

"So what'd Greg wanna talk about?" Rory asked, more blunt than the other two boys, and I grinned a little shyly.

"He asked me to the dance." I told them, looking down at the table.

"What'd you say?" Rory asked me, and I heard the smile in his voice.

"Yes." I said nervously, looking up at the boys. Louis was smiling weakly, and Rory actually looked happy for me. James's expression was quickly darkening, though.

"Cool." Rory said, grinning. "I'm taking Edie."

"Edie's really nice." I told him. "And she's wearing this really nice--" James stood up at this point and shoved himself away from the table, moving to the boys' dormitory staircase. I swallowed self-consciously, the same frantic feeling blooming in my chest as had been there when James had stormed away at the Halloween Dance as well. "What did I do?" I demanded softly, and Louis rolled his eyes, but reached out and squeezed my forearm comfortingly.

"James's just a jerk, sometimes," Louis told me, echoing his words from the last time James had pulled something like this, and I turned to him, frowning: those words meant no more to me now than they had then. "You've just gotta ignore him until he comes back with is tail between his legs." I glanced back at the boys' dormitory stairs and sighed quietly.

"He's not usually though. A jerk, I mean." I told Louis, frowning, and I saw Rory sit back uncomfortably--yeah, Rory was in my circle of really close friends, but he wasn't part of the Louis-Sera-James dynamic. We were the three muskateers--pretty much friends exclusive to all else. Rory was definitely closer to becoming part of our dynamic than anyone else, but he was still pretty far off. "Jamie's...I dunno, considerate." I chewed on my lip. "He doesn't do this just to mess with people or something. And most of the time he does really nice stuff and he's... I mean, this just isn't a thing I see a lot. I don't get it."

"I talk about things that bother me, sometimes I ream Gallagher out--James storms off on people he's friends with." Louis said tiredly, and I nodded once. "Ignore him." He told me quietly. He sighed once. "Anyway. Why are you going to the dance with Landau?" He asked me, sounding as confrontational as I'd ever heard him sound, and my eyes widened infinitesimally as I looked at him. "Ser, he's such a jerk."

"I know he is usually but he was nice just now," I said, blushing a little: he'd kissed my cheek. Which was, you know, long term, not that big at thing. But for eleven-year-old girls who have only emotionally stunted boys as her best friends, it was giant. James kissing my forehead suddenly bubbled to the front of my mind, and I blushed scarlet. "And he said he didn't hate me, like, specifically. And I told him we'd kick his ass if this was a prank or something, and I think he understood. And he said Gallagher didn't know he was there." I shrugged uncomfortably. "I mean, I dunno. He asked. No one else did." Louis stared at me for a moment, his eyes meeting mine, and I was surprised at the level of intensity there. I held his gaze for a second before he looked away, and I looked at Rory for an explanation: Rory just stared studiously down at the patterened table, and I wondered once more where I got this batch of emotionally stunted boys. I glanced around the Common Room self-consciously, and was saved as I spotted Alec approaching.

"Hey Ser." Alec said easily, sinking down where James had been sitting only a few minutes before, and I met his gaze evenly. "Corner, Weasley, scram." He ordered in a serious voice, and Rory and Louis waisted no time: they grabbed their books and James's paper and got up easily. I rolled my eyes, turning to Alec as I heaved a sigh.

"Is it absolutely necessary to scare my friends every time you want to talk to me?" I demanded, scowling, and Alec frowned.

"You're in a bad mood." He noted. I just glared at him. "Fine, fine, drama queen, I'm sorry." He finished. "So why'd Potter storm off? And why were you arguing with Weasley?" I rolled my eyes, moving to stand up, and Alec scowled at me. "C'mon, kid."

"Aww shush, I'm only a little bit younger than you." I muttered. "You don't get to call me kid."

"Wes calls you kid, and he's only a couple years older than you," Alec argued.

"Yeah, but he's my only adult." I explained, and Alec raised his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation. "I mean--he's not an actual adult, per se. But he's as close as I get to a grown up right now, who actually knows me--Dean and Monica have no legal standing and Mum and Dad are gone. So there's just Wes. So he can call me kid, because he's my adult." I shrugged a little, and Alec sighed.

"That's pathetic." He said after a second.

"If that's the first time that this has occurred to you, then you're an actual stupid person." I told him.

"I'm so glad we're close." Alec said sarcastically. We both fell silent for a second. "So c'mon, I wanna hear your drama."

"I got asked to dance and I think James is mad at me because we usually hate the kid who asked me." I told him the abbreviated version, and Alec's eyebrows rose about a foot up his forehead: I shrugged.

"Who asked you to the dance?" He asked.

"A slytherin kid, Greg Landau?" I said, and Alec scowled darkly.

"He's Brian Gallagher's friend," Alec said, and I nodded ruefully. "And a _Slytherin--_God, Ser, what the hell?"

"He asked me!" I said defensively. "And no one else did and he was nice and he said it wasn't a prank and I reminded him that we'd kill him if it was and he said he knew. And then he kissed my cheek." I crossed my arms defensively, straightening up as I scowled back at Alec, not in the least deterred by his resistence.

"Greg Landau is from one of the most bigotted families in the Wizarding World--like half of their family is still in Azkaban from the Wizarding Wars." Alec continued, sounding pissed off.

"Eli Landau is Wes's best friend, they can't be all bad--" I retorted.

"Eli is Gryffindor--"

"House racism!" I said, pointing at him, and he stopped, then laughed, pulling me against him in a one-armed hug.

"Eh, take it easy on Potter. I don't envy him." Alec ordered, with a confusing piece of wisdom, and I frowned up at him.

"What are you talking about?" I demanded.

"Nothing, Sera. I'm talking about nothing." Alec said in a resigned voice.. "Okay, I just came ove here because Wes paid me a couple sickles to come check on you once Potter shoved off, so..."

"Uh, jerk, get off me." I said with a good-natured grin for my godbrother, shoving him off me. "I've gotta go talk to James--go collect your reward for lowering yourself so far to talk to a first-year." I shoved him a little, and Alec grinned but trotted off towards Wes. I pushed myself to my feet, and I crossed to the boys' dormitories, jogging up the steps. I stopped in front of James's dorm's door and opened the door.

"So, dork, stopped moping yet?" I demanded of James, and he didn't even spare me a glance. He was lying back on his bed, chucking what I assumed to be an un-magicked quaffle into the air above his head, catching it, and throwing it back up. He did this silently for a minute before I crossed to his bed, sitting on the edge of his bed, and he scooched over automatically, making room for me. I laid down beside him, resting my head on the pillow and swallowing. I had to wait--James knew why I was up here.

James caught the quaffle with a slapping noise, squeezing it tightly before he exhaled sharply. "Greg's a jackass, Sera." He told me in a carefully controlled voice. "He and Brian--they _torture_ you. Why the hell would you agree to go to the dance with him?"

"Because mainly, it's Brian who's the jerk." I reminded him softly. "Greg just kind of... is along for the ride, I think. And he was nice. And he actually asked me. Which was nice." I murmured softly, blushing a little as James's head snapped to the side to look at me sharply.

"So it's..." James agreed, and I heard the barely bridled curiosity in his voice, despite his obvious efforts to hide it. "It's just because he was the first one who asked you." James studied me, and I snatched his quaffle, tossing it into the air above my head. "You don't like him, or anything." He continued when I didn't answer.

"I don't _like_ him." I agreed softly. "But... it was..." I blushed nice being asked." I bit my lip a little, catching the ball and passing it to James. "I mean... I have to fight really hard to get you and Louis to agree to show at dances." I looked at James. "I wouldn't have said yes if I'd thought you'd hate it this much." I murmured, waiting a beat before continuing. "But I don't get why you hate it so much, Jamesie. I mean, I trust your judgment and stuff, that he's a jerk--but he sort of apologized tonight. And he said he doesn't hate me." I smirked, now. "And I told him that we'd all kick his ass if this turned into a prank." I finished softly.

"We will." James swore to me quietly, and I snorted, my shoulders shaking in laughter.

"Even Greg knows that, Jamie. I honest-to-God don't think this is a joke. I think he's just a guy who kind of likes me." I paused. "He hadn't told Brian though. That's gonna be a problem." James pulled a face.

"Please promise me this boy isn't gonna be one of your actual _friends_," James said in a disgusted voice, and I sighed tolerantly.

"Jamesie, we're friends first." I told him shortly. "Before everyone else, you and me are best friends." I reiterated after a minute, then continued. "If you actually hate a kid as much as you hate Greg, than that's a serious count against him. I mean it." I turned my head to look at James and smiled a little. "You come first, Jamesie." James grinned at me--genuinely, with all the happiness that James only occasionally showed--and I felt a grin bloom on my own face, the automatic reaction kicking in.

"You come first for me too." He told me softly.

"Okay, guys, I get that you two have all the drama in the entire world going on in your lives, complete with weird assassinations and stuff, but seriously, Sera, you're not supposed to be in here." Malcolm Jorkins, ever the annoying roommate, said from the doorway of the dorm, and I sighed heavily, sitting up and looking at Malcolm.

"Who ingrained this intense love of rules into you?" I demanded tiredly, staring at him, and Malcolm stared at me, before he blushed. "Seriously."

"My dad's a Royal Air Force lieutenant." Malcolm muttered. "Mum's a retired police officer." I raised my eyebrows.

"Really?" James asked, interested, sitting up beside me.

"Yeah." Malcolm said affirmatively. "And seriously, Serafina, you're not supposed to be up here."

"C'mon..." I pled with Malcolm. "You said it yourself. We have drama." I grinned. "Please? Ten more minutes won't hurt anyone!" I looked hopefully at Malcolm, who shook his head seriously.

"Sera, seriously. No girls in the boys' dorms." Malcolm said solemnly. I nodded in defeat, standing up straight and saluting him, and he rolled his eyes, crossing to his bed.

"I'm gonna go find Louis and tell him you stopped moping, kay?" I said with a grin to James, and James glared at me, chucking his pillow at me: I dodged it and took off out the door. I giggled as another pillow was thrown and hit the wall outside the doorway as I sped down the stairs, laughter bubbling out of me as James raced after me after a moment. God I loved the boys.

---

"You okay from here?" James asked me the next morning as we stood under the great clock--the spot at which our classes were in different directions. I had muggle studies in the West Wing, and James, Louis and Rory had Potions in the Dungeons. "You won't get attacked by cloaked men?"

"Cloaked men are so last month, Jamie." I said with a crooked grin. "No, I was thinking of getting a dragon to attack me."

"Haha, really funny." Louis said dryly. "That would be super exciting. Nothing like a good rare beast attack to make a day better." I laughed softly, but pulled away from the boys, walking backwards slowly down my hallway.

"Partners in History of Magic?" I called to James, and he nodded: I turned and blended into the kids moving towards their classrooms in my direction. I slid into my classroom with barely anytime before the bell, and I dropped my books on my desk, sitting down easily as I searched through my notebook and textbook for my homework from last night. I pulled it out, effectively knocking my notebook to the floor, and I dropped my quill onto my textbook, bending over to reach for my notebook--and then someone 'tripped' into my desk, their hand slamming into my quill. Ink squirted all over me, and I sat up slowly, swallowing as I realize that it had been Greg who'd done this. I scowled darkly up at him.

"Oops." He murmured as Brian slid into his seat beside mine, and then Greg retired to the seat behind Brian's--but not before I noticed that his nose was lightly bruised, something I could now recognize from spending too much time with overly-violent combination of James and Louis. Someone'd punched Greg in the nose. And judging by Gallagher's black eye--well it was really more yellowy-green than black--Greg had punched back.

I bounced nervously all through class, knowing exactly what was coming once class was over. The bell rang shrilly, and I stood up, staring intently at Greg until he finally looked back at me, and Brian grabbed my sleeve, practically dragging me out of the room: Greg followed unwillingly. I scowled darkly at Brian but didn't jerk away until we reached the empty classroom he'd meant to be our end game, and Greg stepped reluctantly inside the doorway.

"What the hell is going on?" I demanded as he shut the door.

"I don't wanna go to the dance anymore." Greg muttered uncomfortably, in an obviously scripted way, and I pressed my lips together into a grimace before I nodded once, turning to scowl at Brian. I'd seen this coming the minute that Greg had told me that Brian didn't know that he was asking me to the dance; the minute that Greg had said that Brian would kill him.

"You've got him well-trained, don't you?" I asked him angrily. "But it's a shame that you can't just stay friends with people--hmm? Doesn't it suck that you can only make friends who you have to bully into agreeing with you?" I demanded, and Brian's nostrils flared.

"What the hell were you even thinking?" Brian demanded of Greg, who just looked incredibly miserable in the corner. "She's gryffindor, Greg, and--jeez--"

"His brother is Gryffindor." I hissed back at Brian. "And I'm not going to play tug of war with him--you can have him. But I'm just shocked that you actually hate me so much that you'd actually break Greg's nose over it. What the hell is even your problem with me, Gallagher? It's not like I spend my time trying to make your life hell?"

"You don't need to try." Brian pointed out dryly. "Your very existence is enough of a pain, thank you." I stared at Brian uncomprehendingly.

"You don't have friends--you have a kid that follows around because you break his nose when he strays from the path! And that's a cult. Not a friend, but a cult. And that _sucks_ in comparison to actual friendship, idiot." Brian shoved me backwards and I stumbled back a few feet, before I kicked him in the shin, and he caught my wrist, twisting it--I almost automatically brought my knee up between his legs, and Brian released me with a groan. I took a few shaky steps backwards, rubbing my sore wrist, then turned on my heel and walked away, blatantly ignoring Greg. "Have fun with your cult, jackass!" I called back to him, before I slammed the door of the classroom shut behind me as I emerged into the hallway.

I ducked into my History of Magic class two minutes later, and sank down beside James, pulling my sleeve down over my sore wrist nervously as I dropped my books on the table. "Miss Finnigan, how kind of you to join us." Professor Binns noted: I was a little bit late for class. I bit my lip.

"I'm sorry, Professor, it won't happen again," I said the practically scripted words that most teachers lived off of: Professor Binns was the same. He nodded solemnly, and James frowned at me sideways: I looked up at him with a grimace, then looked down at the paper James had just slid across the desk towards me. _Why are you late?_ He had written, and I bit my lip, glancing up to check that Binns was too pleased with hearing himself talk to find James and I in the back row, writing notes to each other.

_Got sidetracked by Gallagher and Landau_. I scribbled easily, before beginning to copy down the notes that Binns was magicking onto the board: in my peripheral vision, I saw James's expression turn stony and his entire posture straighten as he wrote down a response to this information.

_You okay? What happened?_ James had writeen in his typical messy scrawl--it was only because of our mutual editing agreement (in which I edited his Potions papers and he edited my Transfiguration papers) that I could even decipher it.

"I'm fine." I breathed to James, glancing up at the board to check what else I was supposed to be writing. "Seriously, Jamesie. It doesn't matter." I rolled my eyes as his frown deepened into a scowl: leave it to James to overreact before he even had all the necessary information.

"Yes it does," James retorted angrily, albeit quietly, and I shoved his shoulder with my sore wrist--which really wasn't even that sore. It was just a little sore--much in the way that I was always sore after quidditch practice, especially recently. "Sera, a kid hurt you on purpose--what the hell _isn't_ wrong with that?" He demanded. James stared at me imploringly. "Why do you care about everyone's well-being but your own?" He demanded under his breath.

"Because Brian will not be able to walk properly for at least a few hours." I told James distractedly. "Now stop flipping out and maybe we'll get enough of these notes to resume the game where we throw things through Binns." James stared at me before he shook his head.

"You need better self-preservation instincts." He muttered to me, before he began to copy down the notes.

"Not with you, Louis, Rory, Wes and Alec." I retorted, flashing him a quick grin, and I just looked back down at the notes. It was true, though--I had the best friends, the best brother/godbrother. Even if I didn't have parents: I had the boys. And with James nearby, I knew I'd always be okay.


	19. Fever

Hey Guys! Just wanted to let you know that this chapter has to be dedicated to my basketball team...we kind of suck, but _I_ love us. and any plays in quidditch were inspired/taken directly from my practices. i included screening away, to those of you for whom that has significance. :P

xoxo  
..

Chapter 19

"Eli, Wes--I need you guys to step up here, we've got kids out with the flu and I'm trying to keep track of the new rotations, I can't worry about the bludgers." Teddy said. "Grace and Sera--with Nelly and Minna out I need you guys in more often than usual. James, you're not playing--"

"Yes, I am!" James protested, and Teddy snorted, shaking his head as if this was preposterous. James shot me a look: he'd told me Teddy would do this, earlier.

It'd been a week and a few days since the day of the Holiday Dance--and I say day, because we bailed once Greg canceled on me. Edie bailed too, though, with Rory, once she heard what Greg had done to me, and we had fun in the Common Room, taking the seats by the fire usually occupied by the older kids. Wes had, curiously, taken Selma to the dance, and even though I didn't have this as solid information, I was fairly sure they were dating, if only because they were always touching--holding hands, Wes's hand on the small of her back, etc. And I was kind of excited, because Wes deserved a girlfriend. And I trusted Selma not to be a brat to him: the last thing he needed was drama. Teddy'd taken Victoire, and they'd apparently had a great time, which usually meant he'd be more relaxed for games. However, the flu was kind of making its rounds at Hogwarts, and while there are potions to cure it, they're twenty-four-hour deals, and most people (including myself) feared Madame Pomfrey, which meant that they sat through 1-3 days of symptoms without complaint. Unfortunately, during those 1-3 days, they were spreading the bacteria around, so now there was just one giant castle in Scotland filled with sniffling 11-through-18-year-olds.

"You have a fever, kid, and I think Sera does too but I don't have enough chasers to let her go so I'm pretending not to notice." Teddy fired off. I squinted up at Teddy tiredly, and Wes, behind me, put a hand on my forehead and pulling my head back a little as he did: I could practically see the frown bloom on his face. "Wes, I'm not even kidding, don't you dare pull that brother crap you've got going on--I'm keeping her in this game, I actually don't have enough chasers to lose another kid. With Nelly and Minna out--"

"Sera's burning up." Wes retorted, and I heard the honest anxiety in his voice, feeling a little guilty as I shifted uncomfortably on the bench I was sitting on. "Like hell she's playing--it's snowing out, Teddy. She'll get pneumonia by the time you block the first shot."

"Hi, I'm sitting right here." I said, waving my hand in the air. "And I'm playing."

"You've got to have a fever of at least 102--I'm not gonna have you pass out mid-air." Wes told me, and I rolled my eyes, standing up. "Or get sicker."

"If Sera's playing, then I'm playing." James said seriously, standing up.

"Sera's not playing." Wes insisted, stepping around the bench I'd been sitting on before

"Yes, I am." I corrected, turning to glare at Wes.

"Okay, hi kids, I think we've met before. I'm your _captain_!" Teddy shouted the last word, and I turned back to face him. "We're here to play _quidditch_, if I'm not mistaken, so maybe we could talk about the game now that we have a match against Ravenclaw in, oh, I'd say three minutes!" Teddy pointed frantically at his wristwatch. I smirked, and Grace pressed her lips together in an effort not to giggle: Selma grinned outright. You grew less wary of your quidditch captain, I supposed, as you got older, because I was certainly way too scared to show my amusement outright. Teddy this stressed was endlessly amusing and incredibly frightening all at the same time, because there was a fair chance he'd just snap and kill you if you did something wrong. "Sera is playing," Teddy began, and I turned triumphantly to Wes, sticking my tongue out at my big brother. He scowled darkly down at me silently, and I wondered if I'd celebrated too soon. "James may play until--and I mean this, I swear to God--the second someone sees you waver, at which point I might call a time out to switch you out, if you don't cooperate immediately. So that means Eli, I'm gonna have you sit out for the first minute or so, just so I can space out James and not have him pass out." Teddy switched from announcements to talking directly to my best friend mid-sentence, and Wes shook his head.

"Sera's actually burning up, Teddy. This is a problem." Wes said seriously, and Teddy groaned, reaching out to put a hand on my forehead: I backed up a step, putting my hands up. I knew I had a fever, but between Teddy and Wes, there were way too many older-brother type people in the room. If Teddy figured out I did genuinely have a fever, I'd be sitting on the sidelines faster than I could say 'wait.' "I'm actually uncomfortable with letting her play

"Just apply the same rule to me as for James and bring Duane in for me and Eli in for Duane in the event that it becomes a problem--he doesn't get enough playing time anyway as back of keeper, since you're obsessed with the game." I said easily, and Teddy blinked, before he nodded efficiently.

"And there's some comprimising skills, Gryffindor." Teddy said with a grin. He paused, looking at Wes. "But keep an eye on her, okay? If You honest-to-God think she needs to come out..." Teddy shrugged, and Wes just put his hand on the top of my head to tilt my head back, so he could look at me upside down. "Line up kids!" Teddy ordered, clapping his hands once.

"After the game you're going to the hospital wing." Wes said seriously.

"This isn't fair." I complained as we lined up in the order our names would be announced, placing me right between David and Wes.

"Same for you, James." Teddy said in his don't-argue-with-me voice, but, predictably, James ignored the tone.

"What?" James groaned from practically the back of the line. Teddy turned to start in on James, but the doors that had hidden us from the pitch now swung open, forcing everyone to face forward and put on their game face as they mounted their brooms.

"David Bulby!" Eric Jordan announced, and David took off. "Serafina Finnigan!" I took off, following David in the familiar lap of the field we had to do on our brooms. "Wesley Finnigan! Duane Jordan--hey little bro!" I caught sight of Duane's face as he exited the tent, glaring in the direction of his brother. "I remember when he was just a little _squirt_ tottering around on his _leetle toy broom_-- please don't hurt me, professor." Eric said frantically, and there was general laughter as Eric fought for his microphone, hiding it behind his back as Professor Donnelly loomed over him, threatening to take it; the rest of the team came out unannounced, looking grateful for their own lack of commentary. "I swear, I swear," Eric muttered as he came back on. "Alright folks, now that both teams are on the field: let's begin!" There was pause as we set up, Grace and I falling back to the goalposts as Teddy did the tip off with Professor Bell and the Ravenclaw keeper Maxine Swann in the middle of the field. The third chaser was theoretically David, but David, to be frank, was really bad at being a chaser. He was actually a beater, but they'd all not caught the flu, or were playing (in James's case) so we needed him more in the chaser department.

"One, Two, Three--and we're off!" Eric began easily. I zoomed up the left side of the field, hovering lightly in the middle for a moment before I saw an opening for a new block play we'd practiced once or twice. It involved me getting some nasty bruises, but it would give us an advantage, because with the Ravenclaw kids, if we scored the first ten points, they got flustered and defensive and stopped working together. It just took the first ten points.

"Grace!" I called out across the field, and she looked up at me. "Godric 1!" Grace nodded, understanding the name of the play, and in the corner of my eye, I saw Wes shoot me a death look. He agreed with James on the subject of my noticeable lack of survival skills, and I had to agree with him a little bit, especially considering how this play was supposed to work out.

"The Gryffindors are setting up a new play--the center of which is none other than the Littlest Finnigan!" Eric announced, but I ignored him, the familiar quidditch-induced rush of adrenaline hitting me. I grinned at no-one really, the thrill of the game hitting me. How had I survived when I hadn't been allowed to play quidditch? I lived for this high now--the natural high of being a hundred feet off the ground and flying and playing quidditch.

I looped around and backtracked to only about twenty feet in front of where Teddy was stationed at the goal posts, and then Grace and David hovered about thirty feet away on either side. Teddy tossed me the quaffle that he'd just blocked, and I folded my arms around it, leaning forward on my broom and shooting into the crowd, all of us chasers starting a weave-type pattern up the field. At half field, I handed off the quaffle to Grace and shot up the field in front of her, setting a pick by hovering perfectly still, and Grace raced past. Her defenders slammed into me, Maxine Swann and Roger Murdock, and I felt the air whoosh out of me as I sloth-rolled on my broom in an effort to stay airborne. "And la petite Finnigan has to roll to stay on her broom--took a solid hit from two fifth years, surprised she stayed on." Eric commented unhelpfully, and I shot him a scowl: Wes and James moved towards me, but I waved them off, trying to catch my breath.

"Shit, shit, shit," Maxine chanted under her breath as she shook out her hand, which had gotted caught between her and Roger's brooms in the melee. and I ignored the sure-to-be-bruised-feeling that spread from my right ankle all the way up to my right shoulder to look at Grace and David. Grace passed to David who, for all of his miserable chasing skills, had a seriously strong throw. He chucked it through the middle hoop, and it sailed through, clear as day, and I grinned, circling back around to my friends.

"Gryffindor gets the first ten points following a magnificent screening play by their Chasers--lets see if Lupin is up for whatever Ravenclaw has to dish out--oh, now, c'mon." He said irritatedly as a bludger slammed into Wes's arm, causing a breaking sound that made my stomach roll over. That wasn't what worried me, though: I watched the bludger carefully, but it just glanced off of Wes's arm and continued on that trajectory, not turning back to attack either of us. "Okay, well, big Finnigan is out of commission, then I s'pose." Eric sounded genuinely disappointed, and I frowned but held my ground on the field, not moving towards my brother: David and Teddy were already on it. I wouldn't be able to help.

David and Teddy helped Wes get down to the pictch, and from there Professor Bell met them, beginning to walk Wes up to the castle, but not before Wes grabbed Teddy's sleeve and told him something kind of intensely. Teddy nodded, and then Teddy and David kicked off the ground and resumed their positions: Teddy gestured frantically at Eli, who came out immediately, looking nervous. "Is this... oh dear, this is Gryffindors _only_ sub." Eric Jordan noted, and I felt my eyes widen. Did we actually have six kids out with the flu--because that had to be the case. There were fourteen kids on the team--second-string and first-string team--so that when stuff like the flu happened, we had a team left to play with. But with six kids out with the flu, and Wes having broken his arm, which meant Eli had to come in for the remainder of the game, we just had enough kids to play the game. Another lost kid would make us forfit which would give the match to them, no matter the final score.

"Time out!" Teddy called out nervously, beckoning our team forward, and we all huddled in. James came up beside me, and I studied him nervously. He was looking sicker, his face taking on a paler tinge and the circles under his eyes more accented as we tried to blink the snow out of our eyes. The snow was falling fast and thick and in big chunks of snowflakes--it was hard to see all the way down the field. "Okay, Selma, I need you to catch the snitch." Teddy said honestly, looking straight at the blond fourth-year.

"_That's _what I'm supposed to do?" She asked in a falsely ditzy voice. "_Oh_! That makes so much more sense. Here I was thinking I was supposed to find it and then shout really loudly and point at it so someone on the other team gets--"

"We have seven kids out, Langer, I don't have the time or the patience to listen to your sarcasm." Teddy fired off. "I'm serious though--James can't play for very long because I'm fairly sure he'll pass out and Sera's apparently got a fever of a hundred something because her brother made me swear to bring her to the hospital wing, so this game needs to end _now_. We're at the end of our lineup at three minutes in, Sel, okay? I'm counting on you here." Selma nodded, for once in her life serious and not sarcastic, and Teddy looked at me. "Good play--pull it again, switch spots with Grace if you need to--that was a pretty hard hit you took. And James, you don't even really need to aim too well, okay? Just keep it away from our kids, alright?" Teddy asked, looking fiercely at James, who nodded stonily, and I coughed tiredly. My cough excalated to a hacking noise, and James clapped me on the back, shooting me a lethal look: we were both sick as dogs. "Ick, you shouldn't be playing..." Teddy murmured to himself, glancing at me, and I rolled my eyes.

"I've got a brother to worry about me, concentrate on the game, Lupin." I told him. Teddy sighed, but nodded: it was true. It was his players' jobs to deem themselves too sick to get through a game or a practice. Otherwise, he just had to play us as well as he could.

"David, just get close to the hoops--Sera, Grace, get the ball to David and he'll throw it in, his arm's stronger than yours' and we need as many points as we can get. Kids, if you get a chance to set a screen on Helen Keyes--" Helen Keyes was the Ravenclaw seeker, and setting a screen was essentially when you stood there and hoped that people didn't notice you fast enough to move out of the way, because the resulting crash made them slow down and whoever they had been tailing get away free without a tail. It was confusing sometimes, but a really useful play, when we could pull it off. "_Screen on Helen Keyes_--the girl's not bigger than Sera, it won't hurt, I swear it."

"Alright, kids, it's time to get back to the game at hand..." Eric reminded us, and I saw Duane roll his eyes, but we set up the play. Selma hovered beside me for a moment, and the second the whistle went off, Selma took off towards one of the corners of the field: I ignored them, slamming foward with Grace and charging. Grace stole the quaffle and passed it to me, and I dropped twenty feet, avoiding my defender, before I shot towards the goalposts unhindered. Even the keeper was behind me, and I chucked the ball through the left hoop, looping around with a grin at Jamesie, across the field. Selma, who was now a couple feet in front of Helen, was speeding across the field at what I assumed to be like, sixty miles per hour, and she pretty much leapt forward on her broom, catching the snitch and falling the last ten or so feet to the ground. Gryffindor exploded into cheers, and I giggled from excitement before following Grace to land beside Selma, who was already pushing herself into a sitting position, lifting the snitch above her head with a grin.

"Okay, now I get to drop the whole lot of you off at the hospital wing." Teddy said, clapping his hands together efficiently, and David chuckled.

"Learn to celebrate, Lupin." David ordered him, and Teddy nodded, offering Selma a hand up.

"Repeat that next year when you're captain, Bulby." Teddy said tiredly, clapping David on the back, and David grinned like a kid on Chrismtas Day--this was the first genuine acknowledgement that David as going to be captain next year. Selma jumped to her feet and threw her arms around David's neck, recognizing the same thing I had. David laughed, hugging her tightly, and Teddy grinned at James and me in that special, kind of vengeful way that I figure all older brothers/older godbrothers had to have mastered, because Wes and Alec had this down too. "C'mon kids." Teddy said. "Hospital Wing. Now."

"But, if we have fevers, then us being in the cold will help!" I said hopefully.

"That's not the way fevers work." James stage-whispered to me.

"_You're_ not the way fevers work!" I accused with a grin, and James laughed, even as Teddy pointed to the castle.

"Don't make me escort you up there." Teddy said, but he grinned all the same, and I turned to James.

"He's not making this easy." I murmured conspiratorily to James.

"Sera, quit playing around and go take the stupid potion so Wes doesn't have a stroke." Teddy ordered in a firm voice, and I rolled my eyes, then winced: that hurt.

"C'mon, it's no use." James muttered, and I glanced at him, surprised, but judging by the lethal look that Teddy shot me, he was actually going to commit a homicide if I pointed out to James how out of character this surrender was. "Let's just go up."

"Kay," I said, grinning at him still, and James sniffed, shooting me a skeptical look as we started up the hill.

"Why're you so cheery?" He demanded, sounding almost angry about it, and I just laughed softly, then coughed a little, shivering.

"We just won a game! And I did a play, and granted, I'm going to have all the bruises ever from it, but whatever--I wasn't a fail!" I exploded cheerfully, and James rubbed his temple, scowling at me.

"Too loud." He muttered. I sniffed again, then shivered with cold--it was suddenly, like, two degrees outside.

James and I walked silently to the Hogwarts clock tower, entering there because that was only a stair case from the Hospital Wing, but by then, the damage had been done: we were both shuddering with how cold we were, and my breathing had become a kind of rattly rustling sound in my chest that made my throat hurt. James and I slid through the doors of the Hospital Wing, and my brother looked up from his cot, taking one look at me and cursing under his breath. "Madame Pomfrey?" Wes called out, beckoning me towards him with his unbandaged arm, and I edged towards him, my eyes nearly closing even as I crossed to him, and he tugged me down to sit on the bed beside him: his bad arm was in a sling, but looked better than it had on the field. He pressed his hand to my forehead and frowned. I closed my eyes and leaned against Wes, too tired to care that I was probably freaking him out a little, and he hugged me tightly with his good arm. "Madame Pomfrey!" He called more loudly.

"Mr. Finnigan? Did you need--oh, dear." Madame Pomfrey said easily, spotting James and I almost instantly. "Sit down on other cots." She directed us, and I moved to the cot beside Wes's: James moved to the one beside mine, his worried gaze on me. "The flu, I assume?" I coughed wetly and hard, making my own head spin, and she sighed heavily. "Maybe penumonia, for Miss Finnigan." She realized we were in our scarlet robes, and as she bustled over to her medicine cabinet, she shot us glares. "You were just out playing quidditch? Miss Finnigan, Mr. Potter, I can cure broken arms, broken ankles, near-drownings--I am not here to cure _stupidity_!" I couldn't suppress the faint grin, but then I shivered again, and it faded.

"It was the game against Ravenclaw." I whined softly, earning a glare: I leaned back on the pillows, already feeling my eyes flutter shut.

"We couldn't not play." James elaborated Madame Pomfrey, and I thought I heard a whine in his voice, but I knew if I mentioned it he'd never fess up. "There were only eight kids left after everyone had the flu--" I began to cough, my chest tightening, and in a moment, Wes was over, standing beside my bed and clapping me on the back.

"Miss Finnigan, how long have you been coughing like that?" Madame Pomfrey demanded as I recovered and I winced, shrugging.

"Since last night." James muttered, and I rolled my eyes, shaking my head.

"Nah, just started on the pitch." I told him softly.

"No, you were already coughing last night," James insisted, and I turned my head to squint-glare at him. He just shrugged. "We're here. We might as well get this over with." He muttered defensively, and I just scowled.

"Traitor." I muttered.

"Drink this, Finnigan--eh, _Miss_ Finnigan." Madame Pomfrey clarified as Wes and I both shot her a pointed look, passing to me a container of a disgusting-looking liquid. It was bubbling and an oddly bright orange: I scowled at James over the vial as he was handed a similar concoction.

"Happy now?" I demanded. James grinned cheekily at me.

"I'm happy as a clam, thanks for asking." James said, still grinning, and I smirked but tilted my head back a little reluctantly. James and I both gulped it at the same time--and seconds later, I spluttered, pulling a disgusted face as Madame Pomfrey shoved cups of water into both of our hands. James scowled at her.

"Why wouldn't you _warn _us?" I demanded, then gulped my entire cup in two swallows.

"You wouldn't have taken it," She pointed out accurately, and James snorted--I scowled at him. "Now go to the bathroom and change into these pajamas--you're staying here over night, with a cough like that." She told us, dropping a pair of pajamas at the end of my bed and another pair at the end of James's. "And tomorrow's Sunday, so I'm not particularly worried about you missing class."

"What? I'm barely even sick--I'm only really here because _she's_ here--" James began, and Wes sat back on his own bed, shooting a scowl at James that shut my best friend up. I sniggered, and James shot me a lethal glare: I just smiled charmingly at him.

"And you're the reason she's sick." Wes pointed out. "So stop it." James shut up fast as that, and I glared at Wes a little, even as I felt my eyes flutter a little. Wes's expression softened. "SerBear, get some sleep, okay, kiddo?" He said softly to me.

"She needs to change first, Mr. Finnigan." Madame Pomfrey said sternly, and I rose from my bed like a dead person, grabbing my PJs and stumbling towards the bathroom, quickly shutting the door behind me. I winced as I stripped off my robes and then my clothes, and realized that I wasn't just kind of generically achy--my side and hip hurt. A lot. I glanced in the mirror and raised my eyebrows--I was already brusing from the impact with the Ravenclaw chasers who'd been after Grace.

I rolled my eyes, knowing Wes and James would both be mad if they saw them, and just tugged on the PJs. I picked up my clothes and stumbled out of the bedroom, dumping my clothes on the end of the bed and crawling under the covers of the cot. It didn't escape my notice, however, that James was already asleep on his bed, and I frowned resentfully, but didn't say anything: knowing Pomfrey, she'd wake him up and make him change. I closed my eyes and I was asleep in a moment.

---

I woke up a couple of hours later, or so I suspected, because it'd been about four thirty when I'd left the pitch, and it was dark out now. A quick glance around told me that Wes was gone, but knowing him, he'd be back tomorrow morning. James was in the cot next to me, staring up at the ceiling kind of solemnly, I stared at him for a long moment before he looked back at me.

"What's up?" He asked softly, and I grinned. "You feel better?"

"I better be after that stuff." I murmured blinking slowly. "You?"

"Eh, I'm fine. Woke up when your brother left." James murmured, and I nodded a little tiredly. We fell silent for a minute, and I asked a question that I'd been dying to ask for weeks that I hadn't gotten the chance to:

"When's your birthday?" I asked softly, gazing scrutinizingly at James.

"Did the fever like mess up your head or something?" James asked me, grinning jokingly. I grinned back, waking up a little.

"Nah, I just realized a couple weeks ago that I didn't know your birthday." I shrugged with one shoulder. "But we've got stuff going on. I haven't really gotten the chance to ask you."

"It's February 28th." James said as he sat up. "And I don't think I know your birthday..." I propped myself up a little.

"May 7th." I pulled a face. "I think I somehow ended up being the youngest of us. Ick." I sighed, rolling in my eyes, and I pushed some hair out of my face as I sat up properly, yawning a little tiredly and scrubbing at my face. "Why couldn't I be in the middle somewhere? Or like--the oldest. Being older than you two would be _great_." I grinned, and James raised his eyebrows. "What? It would be. I could boss you guys around--I'd get my Apparition license before y'all, I'd get my driver's license before you--"

"Driver's liscense?" James clarified.

"In the muggle world, when you turn seventeen, you can get a license to drive cars... you know. Like real driving. Not like what your mother does." I said with a good-natured grin, and faux-shuddered. "That's actually classified as terroristic actions."

"Dad tried to give her a driving lesson last summer--Mum actually flipped out. Teddy spelled the horn to keep going off completely by itself and it was the best." James grinned, and I laughed softly: I could just imagine Mrs. Potter having a pretty legitimate panic attack as she struggled to drive a car. "Course, then Mum realised we were laughing and grounded us for like, two weeks or something..." I grinned: I loved the Potters, how it almost felt like I was part of this family, because I knew them and knew so much about them.

I missed my own parents, though.

"James?" I asked after a second, my own grin fraying a little at the edges. I had hundreds of questions I wanted to ask, questions that needed answers, but how many could James answer? And how many _would_ he? I held my breath for a minute, trying to gain the courage--_why did you freak out when Greg asked me to the dance?_--but instead I just swallowed my words. I couldn't make things awkward with James. Not when he was pretty much everything that was working for me. "What do you want for your birthday?" I asked lamely after a second. "It's only a couple weeks away--I can still send away for something cool." I forced myself to continue grinning, and James sensed that I hadn't said what I'd wanted to, but didn't push me on it, and I wondered where I'd gotten this fantastic a best friend from?

"I don't really celebrate my birthday." James told me in a quiet voice, his own grin falling a little, and I frowned at him worriedly.

"Why not?" I demanded, scandalized, and James just shrugged. "No, seriously, Jamie, what's up with not celebrating your birthday?" I pressed when he didn't respond immediately. "Everyone deserves a birthday."

"I don't like being the center of attention." James said uncomfortably, shrugging a little.

"Not even if it's good?" I asked, confused. Who didn't want to celebrate their birthday?

"Nope." He popped the 'p' noise, and I hesitated, then crossed between our two beds, so that I was sitting right in front of him. "I mean, my parents gets me presents and stuff, and so do Teddy and Louis, but other than that..." His voice drifted off, and he just shrugged. "I can't stop them, though." He cracked a smile, but I didn't fall for that for even a moment.

"James--what's wrong with a bunch of people who like to give you stuff for free one day a year?" I demanded, and James's expression faded into its defensive stony expression, and I frowned, wondering what I'd done wrong. I swallowed hard, then grabbed James's hand, squeezing it. "C'mon, Jamie, talk to me here. I don't get it--birthdays are good things and you don't like them." I smiled a little at him, holding his gaze firmly. "And I know that, despite the fact that you're cranky and immature most of the time, you're not a saidist. And only sadists hate birthdays."

"Noooo," James dragged out the word. "Not only sadists. And it's not like I hate _other _people's birthdays. I just hate mine."

"That's irrational." I pointed out.

"Perfectly rational." James said seriously.

"Why?" I demanded, and James sighed quietly, holding my gaze intensely, and I felt a surge of sympathy for my best friend: what was really bugging him so much about his birthday that it kept him from ever celebrating it?

And then it clicked.

The fact of it was, underneath the stop-recognizing-that-I'm-Harry-Potter's-son exterior, James felt guilty. I'd known that for a while--he felt guilty that some families (like my own) didn't have a lot of money and his had a lot, he felt guilty that at stores the sales clerks would invite him to cut the lines, that at restaurants and cafes, he could order something not on the menu and no one would think twice. But at some point, that guilt had somehow jumped from the unreasonable guilt about financial situations and certain advantages that weren't _his_ fault, to his birthday and any presents he was going to try not to recieve.

"You feel guilty?" I demanded, dropping James's hand, and James's eyes widened.

"No." He denied, too defensively.

"Yes." I challenged.

"No,"

"Yes."

"Sera, drop it." James muttered, blushing red enough that it was even visible in the darkness of the Hospital Wing, and I frowned a little.

"Jamie..." I murmured, taking his hand again and giving it another comforting squeeze. "C'mon. If it's not that, then what? We're best friends, Jamie--you can trust me."

"Drop it." James ordered, his eyes flashing, and I felt a lump bloom in my throat as I removed my hand from his, feeling stung. My eyes burned a little, and I rose to my feet carefully, crossing back to my bed, surprised at how hurt I felt. James just didn't want to tell me something--that shouldn't bother me. I wasn't one of those girls who burst into tears everytime she had a fight with someone--I was stronger than that. Jamie could keep some stuff from me. That didn't matter. It wasn't like we were attached at the hip or anything. _But you are, _a nagging voice in my head told me. _You spend every spare moment together. He's your best friend._ I pressed my face into my pillow, squeezing my eyes shut and taking a shaky deep breath.

I hadn't meant to mess stuff up.


	20. It's a Lot

Chapter 20

"Hi Louis," I said self-consciously as I sat down at dinner four days later, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind my ear, and the blond boy smiled sympathetically across the table at me. "Hi Jamie," I swallowed, glancing at the brunette, who didn't even acknowledge my presence, and my stomach hurt with stress as I stared at James, pleading silently with him to look up at me. But he just stared down at the food he was scooping into his mouth a mile a minute, and I looked back at Louis, my expression revealing my distress.

"Did you understand the moon cycle chart we had to do for Astronomy? I got confused when I realized that last year was a leap year--I wasn't sure what to do with the dates after that--" Louis pointed out, and I shrugged.

"I can't remember, you can check if you want," I murmured, lifting my folder over the table, and Louis shook his head, waving the folder away.

"It's okay--I just wanted to know if you remembered it off the top of your head." He paused, and James got up, leaving the table and walking down the lane between the two tables. I followed him with my gaze before I looked back at Louis.

"He _hates_ me now." I whispered heatedly, leaning over the table.

"No he doesn't hate you." Louis whispered back. "I know I've told you this before--James is just a jerk sometimes." Louis glanced after his cousin, who just now disappeared through the open double doors at the end of the hall. "What'd you ask him, anyway?"

"Why he didn't want to celebrate his birthday!" I murmured, running a hand through my hair. "I mean, Jesus, it wasn't like I asked him for the meaning of life or something-- I don't even understand what I did wrong! I mean..." I fell silent. "He did tell me to drop it. But I dunno, I tell you guys everything. I just figured he was doing that James thing--you know, how sometimes he stalls answering stuff just for the hell of it?" I looked up at Louis desperately, who nodded reluctantly.

"And he hasn't really talked to you in four days because of this?" Louis demanded, and I nodded vehemently: Louis rolled his eyes. "That's ridiculous."

"I'd agree but this is seriously freaking me out, Lou--I am not freaking super girl. Jamie and you have always been easy and nice and I can't deal with more drama right now…" I ran a hand down my face, miserably staring at Louis. I dropped my gaze down to my plate, and Louis winced.

"I'm going to kill him for doing this to you," He swore to me under his breath, and I just dropped my head back to arms. Louis reached across the table to put a comforting hand on the back of my head, and I just lifted my head a little to look up at Louis from my hooded eyes. "Seriously, Sera, you shouldn't have to take this from him--you guys are friends. This isn't something friends do." Louis told me heatedly, and I raked my hair out of my face, sighing once as I sat up properly.

"Yeah...but friends can fight. I just wish I got what we were fighting _about_, though--I mean, God. I love you and Jamie. I don't like fighting with you, and when we do fight, I wish it could be about something important, not something this _stupid_." I sighed, folding my arms on the table and dropping my forehead to my arms once more. "I hate this so much."

"He'll come around." Louis reassured me. "Or Rory and I'll kill him." I chuckled softly at that.

"I'm so...ugh." I exhaustedly.

"I've heard it feels like crap to be ugh." Louis told me, and I lifted my head to grin at him again, and I picked up a pumpkin pastie and bit into it with a vengeance: I hadn't eaten that much in the past few days, between mulling over this thing with Jamie and trying to get through the mountains of homework that my teachers seemed to enjoy building around me and watching me try to write my way out.

"Hey kid, Longbottom wants us in the headmistress's office," Wes said as he walked up behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders, and I twisted to look up at my brother, my eyes wide: Longbottom wanting us in _his_ office would have been normal, since we had to meet with him once or twice a week so he could feel like our pretend-parent. I actually didn't mind those meetings--Wes didn't really want to talk to his eleven-year-old sister all the time, and I felt like it was an easy way to get a lot of the gossip he wouldn't necessarily share with me. But for Longbottom to meet us in the headmistress's office meant something had happened with my parents' case, especially because even though the headmistress was half of my legal guardian pair, she had yet to actually talk to us about it. Wes met my gaze evenly, only a small line on his forehead revealing his concern, and I swallowed, then looked back at Louis.

"Wait up for me in the Common Room?" I asked hopefully, and Louis nodded.

"I'll use the time to beat up Jamie," He said with mock happiness, and I smiled weakly at him.

"Good luck." I muttered, getting up wearily. Wes and I walked down the isle, and as soon as we emerged into the relative privacy of the hallway, I looked up at him nervously. "So what's going on?" I asked, my voice as worn out as I felt. Wes didn't even spare me a glance, though, and I swallowed back the nervous feeling. If Wes was being mature than I could to.

"I don't know, but Longbottom told me to come quickly." Wes told me, his voice emotionless, and I just looked back forward, biting my lip and feeling nervousness pool in my stomach. I knew what we were both thinking, that this might be the message that Mum and Dad had been found--dead or alive. The fact of it was, though, I hadn't really given much thought to this odd limbo we were in ever ending badly. I'd just assumed...well, Mum and Dad coming back okay. And I'd assumed that because the alternative was unfathomable. Mum and Dad had given us to Dean and Monica in their will, but I knew that Mum's parents would probably dispute it, if simply because that was they way Mum had described them. And Dad had a cousin Fergus, who was a blood relation, and I knew that the Family Services Committee of the Wizengamot favored blood relations. And besides all of that--I loved my _parents_. I wanted my parents. I didn't want to go to the Potters' or the Weasleys' or whomever's for Christmas--I wanted to go home and have Christmas morning with me bouncing around and Wes trying to sleep and Dad tickling him into consciousness and Mum watching us open our presents with her hands wrapped around the coffee mug Wes had made her at muggle elementary school when he was seven.

_Of course_, I reminded myself forcibly. _Home isn't even there. The mug's not there, the beds aren't there, the christmas tree certainly isn't there_. I swallowed. That was hard to hear, even when I was telling it to myself.

I hesitated before I spoke, glancing up at Wes as I tried to gain courage. "What if--"

"Sera, don't even." Wes ordered me in a steely voice. I nodded once, falling silent as a prickly feeling swamped me, and we turned down the hallway leading to the Headmistress's office. I chewed on my lip, and Wes sighed, glancing down at me apologetically. "Okay, Ser, look, I don't want to be mean to you, kiddo," Wes said tiredly after a moment, and I looked up at him, my near-panic now showing in my expression. "But the way I'm getting through this," He began softly, "is firmly believing that one of these days, Mum and Dad will show up, we'll ream them out for putting us in this situation, and then I'll get to go back to being... just Wes." He slung his arm around my shoulders, and I stopped walking forward to give him a tight hug: he hugged me back for a moment before he patted my back, then released me a little awkwardly before we continued walking towards the office. "I love you, Ser. And if its what has to be done, you and me will walk around in this legal-guardian-lacking gray area until I turn seventeen, but you're my little sister. And there are freaks after us who've tried to hurt you, and it scares me that I'm the end of the line for you, Sera. I'm not old enough or... I shouldn't be the one taking care of you." Wes scrubbed at his eyes tiredly, removing his arm from around my shoulders as we stepped onto the transport. I swallowed, licking my lips after a moment. "But it's not because I don't care about you, kiddo--you're my sister, so you're stuck with me." Wes grinned good-naturedly, but I still felt the sting of his words. I understood, but still--Wes was all I had. And he was telling me he was a little bit tired of me. "But I shouldn't be acting like your dad." I nodded nervously as the transport began to spin, and I turned to Wes, frowning a little.

"You know I'm eleven, right?" I said softly, and Wes glanced down at me, frowning, and I knew he didn't understand my point. "I'm not gonna eat the glue every time you turn your back on me." My eyebrows drew together of their own accord. "Yeah, I like having a grown-up--and you have turned into my grown up--but I don't want to do it at your expense, you know? I get that you're... not an adult yet. You're probably dating Selma," Wes pulled a face, and I ignored it, continuing, "and you'll be quidditch captain after David, even though you'll only be a sixth year--you've still got a big life here. You don't need your kid sister dragging around after you with constantly broken bones and an army of guys that want to kill me." I blinked away the sudden moisture in my eyes as I looked down: Wes did care about me, but I knew at the end of the day he had to do what was best for him and I had to deal with whatever the Ministry was willing to give me. "Like you said. You're my brother, not my dad." Wes exhaled shortly.

"Sera, you know that isn't what--" Wes began, sounding upset, as the transport opened, and I opened the door easily, walking into the room, and Wes followed a moment after, shooting me a look that said, very clearly, that we would talk later.

The headmistress was sitting at her desk, and leaning over it was Professor Longbottom, who was glaring at the Headmistress--I got the idea that they were sort of at odds a lot--and nervous-makingly, James and Louis's fathers were sitting in large armchairs on the left side of the room, having a heated discussion with the Minister of Magic. The presence of the Minister only made me slightly more alarmed: this wasn't just a benign checking-some-facts meeting. They had a problem with something, and for some reason, they beleived Wes and I could help with it.

"Mr. and Miss Finnigan," Headmistres Patil said icily, and I actually dropped back a step, bumping into Wes. "As you can see, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter are here to ask you a few questions... As well as the Minister." She frowned severely at us. "There have been some incongruencies in your parents' case."

"Sera, sweetheart, over the break, you told me your mother's maiden name was Warren." Mr. Weasley said in a pleasant enough voice, but I saw his stress as he stood up, looking down at me solemnly: Wes looped arm around my shoulders, pulling me tightly against his side. "Maybe I heard wrong?"

"No, it's Warren," Wes assurred softly.

"Spelled?" Mr. Weasley asked now, in a more strained voice.

"W-A-R-R-E-N." Wes spelled out after a second. Mr. Weasley frowned, nodding.

"And her first name is Elisabeth?" Mr. Weasley pressed, and I frowned, nodding. I'd hoped that Louis's dad would be better with remembering the investigation, especially because I was kind of his son's and nephew's best friend. Maybe he had a full caseload or something. "With an 's', not a 'z'?"

"Yeah, and they got married in December of 2000, I think," Wes said easily.

"Seamus Finnigan and this Elisabeth Warren got married in December 2000." Mr. Potter clarified, and Wes nodded, and I leaned my head against him, chewing on my lip a little. What the hell was going on?

"What's going on?" He asked warily.

"Please, sit." the Minister said quietly, gesturing to two chairs in front of Headmistress Patil's desk, and Wes nodded once, so we crossed the room and sat down. Mr. Potter crossed behind the desk to lean against the window sill behind the Headmistress, and Mr. Weasley moved to stand beside him, crossing his arms in front of his chest, looking grim. Longbottom leaned against the left hand side of the desk, looking at us tiredly, and Patil remained seated, her piercing gaze on us. The Minister crossed to the right side of the desk and stood there. "Wesley, Serafina, I'll get straight to the point--we cannot find your mother." He told us quietly, and I swallowed, glancing at Wes with a quick frown--no _duh_ they could not find our mother. She was _missing_. That was the _definition_ of missing. "Her marriage to your father is undocumented--according to actual record keeping, they aren't married. She doesn't have a passport, she's never filed for a portkey, she's never registered a floo, though your father did, from your home. On your birth certificate, there is a blank space where the mother's name is traditionally listed. We have no record of her existence other than the pictures Dean Thomas has been able to show us." The Minister finished in a professional voice. I blinked, staring up at the adults around me. These people were actually telling me that my mother, the woman who had _raised_ me--did not exist, as one generally defined existence.

"But...she exists." Wes said after a moment, his voice sounding strange, and I glanced at him worriedly. "She exists _because_ we exist--she's our _mother_."

"That is the issue." Mr. Weasley agreed, watching us carefully. "But you have to understand, Wes--no one but your godparents and yourselves have ever met your mother. And even Dean and Monica admit to a somewhat unorthodox introduction: your parents eloped, according to them. Your father didn't invite Dean to his wedding, Sera." Mr. Weasley let that sink in, and I felt a piercing panic hit me: this was, indeed, something to notice. Dad and Dean had made it through a war together, Dad _loved_ Dean. Wes and Alec and I made fun of their bromance, sometimes, just because it was true--they were _brothers_ in a closer way than I'd ever get to Wes. "A few people mentioned seeing her in passing, but that's not enough for confirmation of identity because she never actually introduced herself." Louis's father looked straight at me, now. "Now. That said. Of course we believe that the actual woman exists--you two exist, don't you?--but we need something, guys. Anything. Any hint where she's from--"

"She speaks Italian." I said softly, tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear, and I felt myself sink in my chair a little bit as every adult in the room looked straight at me. "She loves the Roman Red Caps, her parents are muggles and I don't know their names." I swallowed past the lump in my throat, and Wes glanced at me tiredly.

"We've never met them." Wes echoed. "But she does speak Italian. She loves Italian--it's where Sera's name comes from. Serafina. It's Italian."

"What're your middle names?" Mr. Potter asked, straightening up.

"Dean," Wes said dully, running a tired hand through his hair.

"Elisabetta." I said softly, and Wes raised his eyebrows.

"Really?" He asked.

"No, its a joke. Haha." I said sarcastically, and Wes rolled his eyes.

"Quit it, Kid." Wes murmured to me, and I just looked away from my brother.

"Elisabetta." Mr. Weasley echoed, trading looks with Mr. Potter: Wes watched them like a hawk, his eyes narrowing as he watched the exchange. "D'you know if maybe that's your mother's legal name, and she just goes by Elisabeth--for convenience's sake, perhaps?" I shrugged uncomfortably.

"I'm...not sure." Wes answered softly, sounding suspiciously more vulnerable than I'd heard him before. "I just... thought her name was Elisabeth." He rubbed the back of his neck. "If she's not Elisabeth Finnigan..." Wes exhaled slowly, looking up at the adults. "What does that mean for us?"

"It adds a dimension to your parents' abduction." Mr. Weasley said quietly. "And we are sure she was abducted: she is in the photographs, guys. But also...What your parents were doing for the Ministry has very little, maybe nothing, to do with their missing status."

"You're sure?" Wes asked quietly, running a hand through his hair.

"Very sure--your parents were doing some sensitive work, but the people potentially in danger were never you, nor Serafina, nor they themselves." The Minister said quietly. "They pose no gain or loss, on the subject they were investigating." He paused, letting this sink in before he continue. "We began to suspect this...change in motives when Serafina was first attacked at Hogwarts--and then again when the bludger was cursed for both of you." He paused. "The run-ins in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley only confirmed the idea." He murmured, and Wes's face darkened: he hated talking about Diagon Alley.

"Your mother may have someone she's been hiding from--it's important not to condemn her yet, guys." Mr. Potter jumped in pleasantly, and I nodded, pressing my lips together as I felt the overwhelming urge to cry. If Mum wasn't who she'd said she was--well, who were _we_? We were her children, but if she was an unknown, we were half an unknown. "She might have had a bad boyfriend before your father and changed her name, something as simple as that." I turned my teary stare to Mr. Weasley, who held my gaze before deliberately looking away--that wasn't true. I knew it wasn't true--aside from there being some record of the name change, my father wasn't someone to mess with. Dad would have beaten to a pulp any one who'd ever treated Mum badly.

"Didn't you have men in custody?" Wes asked quietly. "Sera and Louis--they took out two of the men who attacked them in Diagon Alley."

"They were obliviated before we got there." Mr. Potter murmured quietly. "It may have even happened when we were there--however, at the time, it seemed less important to capture one of them than to take care of Sera and Louis, both of whom needed medical attention." Wes hesitated, then nodded, and my gaze flicked downward. Wes sighed, and I just stared at the carpet, taking a few shallow breaths as I tried not to cry. I looked back up at the adults.

"Monica Selwyn--Dean's wife--she's been friends with my mother for years, we grew up with their son Alec." I pointed out, my voice fast. "Why doesn't she know these things?" Wes glanced at me worriedly as my voice jumped up a pitch like it always did when I was really upset about something. "I mean... How do we not know these things--we're her _kids_. I... don't know what school she went to, or her _name_, even." I pressed my lips together, stifling the urge to burst into tears once more even as the moisture burned my eyes. "I can't even believe this--how is this possible?" I glanced at the Minister. "Why was she even allowed to do this assignment in the first place if you couldn't confirm her identity? Don't you have to run tests like that?" I demanded.

"I've known Seamus for years." Mr. Potter murmured. "We were in the same dorm all through Hogwarts, Sera, and he's also been a good friend of Ginny's. We just assumed...I mean, my brother-in-law's known him for years as well. He was a great help in the Battle of Hogwarts--he's a good man. We accepted his passing of your mother's name." I wrapped my arms around myself tightly, grabbing each other arm with my hands in an effort to warm myself up: a sudden wave of cold had swept over me.

"I know, it's hard to believe." The Minister said quietly. "But is there anything else at all? Anything that could help us?"

"I don't... think so." Wes said quietly, and he sighed, looking over at me and resting his face on his hand while his elbow rested on his knee. "Ser, kiddo, you okay?" He asked me tiredly, and I glanced at him with wide eyes, before I cleared my throat a little, looking back up at the adults.

"Can we go back to the common room?" I asked in a tight voice, and Wes sat up straighter, watching me sadly. "I just... wanna go back to my friends, please," Mr. Weasley shot me a pitying look, and I felt the tears in my eyes bubble up again as Professor Longbottom nodded tiredly.

"C'mon," Wes murmured to me as he stood up. "Thank you, Mr. Minister, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley." Wes said quietly, and each man shook his hand in turn. I sniffed a little, and Wes glanced back at me, nervously. "Thanks to you too, Professor Longbottom, Headmistress." I turned frantically back to the doors, and I heard Wes behind me mutter something unintelligable to Mr. Weasley before he came after me.

"Sera, kiddo, hey, calm down," Wes murmured to me as he caught up with me, stepping onto the transport beside me, and the doors closed. I jiggled my leg nervously, swallowing my tears frantically--I just had to make it back to the Common Room before I broke--James was there, Louis was there. And screw this fight Jamie and I were having: Jamie had to be here for me and get the hell over whatever it was I'd offended him.

Wes wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and I ha to jerk away more ruely than I'd orginally intended. I couldn't, though, let his arm stay around my shoulders. I would crumble. And I loved Wes, I did, but I also knew I was due for a mega breakdown, and the truth of it was, I trusted Jamie more than anyone. And Wes's speech on how he was a fourteen-year-old who was effectively raising his eleven-year-old sister had made me nervous. But James could handle it.

"Sera," Wes began in his best I'm-on-top-of-this voice, and I glanced up at him, swallowing again. "The fact that James's dad is on this now says a lot--same with the Minister. They'll figure this out." He sighed. "All you and me need to do--Sera!" Wes called after me as I took off, once the transport had opened onto the hallway. I sprinted down the hall, relaxing as the sheer exertion of running lessened the lump in my throat, and reabsorbed the tears in my eyes. I loved running--if I kept running at this pace, maybe I could escape everything. But too soon, I was scrambling through the portrait hole, and crossing the common room in almost a sprint. Jamie wasn't here--if I knew my best friend, I knew he'd be in his dormitory. I stole up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and opened his door forcibly, my tears bursting forth finally, and James looked up from where he'd been sitting on his bed, one leg hanging over the side, his hands wrapped around the uncharmed quaffle.

"You're crying." James said, obviously shocked, and I nodded, biting my lip as my face crumpled with my resolve. "Sera, I'm sorry, I didn't know you'd be this--"

"My mum doesn't exist." I sobbed. James stared at me before he stood up carefully, staring at me blindly. "She doesn't exist--she's not on my birth certificate, she's not married to my father--according to the Ministry, my mother does not exist." I leaned against the door jamb, covering my mouth with my hand as I tried to catch my breath. "How could she do this, Jamie? She's my _mother_--my Mum--and her name isn't--I don't know my own mother's name!" I sobbed, and Jamie crossed to me quickly, pulling me against him in a tight hug: I pressed my face into his shoulder, clinging to him. "What is wrong with her?" I sobbed softly. "How could she do this--she's been lying to us? Mothers don't mislead their kids like that--what is wrong with us? Did Wes and I deserve this?" I asked him a whisper, and James smoothed down my hair, murmuring things I could barely understand through my panic.

"You don't deserve this." Jamie murmured to me softly. "No one deserves this, especially not you," I just squeezed my eyes shut as Jamie's cheek rested against my hair. "Shh, Ser. You'll be okay. Shh."

Things were getting so much worse.

---

"Teddy, this is cruel and unusual punishment!" Grace hollered that Monday, as she ran one of her ten assigned laps around the pitch. I exchanged grins with Nelly across the pitch, as Grace began to rant in typical Grace fashion. "This team is not just an _outlet_ for your anger, even if you are a seventh year and captain! You can't just _treat_ people like this!" It'd been a little less than a weeksince my meltdown of the century in the boys' dorms, and life wasn't quite back to normal, but James and I spent every waking moment together again, which I liked. We hadn't yet discussed the birthday thing--which was what had set him off in the first place--but I also didn't particularly want to, anymore: originally, I'd just wanted to know because of curiosity. And I wasn't curious enough about anything to destroy the dynamic James and I had.

I'd also talked to Louis about everything that had happened in the Headmistress's office, and given James a clearer story than the tear-ridden one he'd gotten that night--apparently me having a veritable mental breakdown didn't lead to a whole lot of coherency on my part. They were apologetic and sympathetic and all of that, but mostly, they were confused. And the thing was, as confused as I was--how was it possible for a woman to go through her life lying to her children this thoroughly required a psychopathic mindset, I was fairly sure--but I was mostly hurt. How my mother could have done this to Wes and me was incomprehensible. And yeah, she hadn't meant to, maybe. Or maybe she'd planned to bail at some point, explain everything once she thought we were old enough, or something. But that didn't change the fact that she didn't think it mattered enough to Wes and me to tell us what her real name was. And that just demonstrated a thorough lack of understanding of Wes and me as people.

"How long are we going to let her go on like that before someone swoops down and kills her?" Selma asked Wes, as they hovered a couple feet back from me.

"She's gotta run out of breath, right?" Wes speculated. "I mean, seriously. She's running pretty fast, and she'll be running for a pretty long time. Shouting at Teddy requires more breath than she can possibly have." Wes glanced up at Selma.

"Concentrate on your running, McClellan." Teddy called out in a reprimand, and I cracked a crooked smile, looking at James and exchanging looks with him. Grace was a pain in the butt, but the problem here was really something more akin to the fact that Teddy was in the worst mood _ever_. "Wes, Selma, if you don't stop making those gooey eyes at each other--" Wes and Selma had been talking perfectly normally, but they still sprang apart, Wes blushing like something else as Selma glared angrily at Teddy. "And James--concentrate on the bludger and not your girlfriend!"

"She is not my girlfriend!" James called back at Teddy, scowling darkly.

"Remember what he did to Albus!" Wes called to Teddy with a grin, and I turned to him, my eyes narrowing on him. "And I'm fairly sure Sera won't protect you, this time."

"Shut up," I ordered in a lethal voice, my nostrils flaring, and Wes raised his eyebrows as he glanced at me.

"You are way too scary for your own good." Duane noted from his broom a couple feet away, and I turned my glare to him: he backed up a little on his broom, and Wes chuckled. "Oh, Jesus." Duane muttered as I moved forward, and even I had to laugh.

"She is the scariest." Wes agreed. "You should see her on April Fools Day. I'm pretty much a deadman from midnight on." I grinned wolfishly, pleased at the change of subject and rolling with it. "Last year--and this _is_ kind of epic, despite the fact that it wasn't particularly amusing at the time--she owled Devon and convinced him to put a grindy low from the lake in my bed." Duane and Selma blinked, before they burst into laughter, and I grinned at them.

"Aren't grindylows kind of..." James's voice drifted off as he came towards us with David, and I saw Teddy, across the field, narrow his eyes: I glanced back at my little group, trying to decide how much time we had left before Teddy came over and murdered us all.

"Dangerous?" Wes demanded. "Alarming? Water creatures? Yes to all of the above." Wes said, and I chuckled. "This was solved by my darling baby sister sending Devon the spell to turn my bed into a fish tank of sorts." David snickered. "And I'm fairly sure she picked grindylows for their dangerous and alarming characteristics."

"I remember _that_." David said with a grin. "Water exploded down the stairs in the boys' dorms. The stairs were slippery as hell." David chuckled, glancing at Eli, who has also come over after a moment. "Didn't you fall down, like, every step?" Eli blushed, and David laughed louder: James just came beside me, leaning towards me.

"Teddy's coming, let's scram," He murmured in my ear, but it was too late: Teddy swept in beside James, coming to hover in between all of us.

"We are a _quidditch_ team, yes?" Teddy asked in an alarmingly calm voice. I glanced at James and raised my eyebrows.

"Last time I checked." David agreed mildly.

"Hmm." Teddy murmured, looking thoughtful. "There's this thing that quidditch teams do." He began.

"This is getting boring, so I'm gonna speed through the rest of it." Selma said, grinning at us even as she pushed to the middle of the circle. Teddy shot her a lethal look, and she just glared back. "You do this all the time." She said defensively. "So let me press the metaphorical 'fast forward button'" she used air quotes, effectively making Teddy's face turn purple with anger, and I wondered in the back of my mind whether Teddy would ever consider just shoving one of his team members off their broom midair, because he was certainly feeling pretty murderous. "We're a quidditch team, not a sorority, get to work or he'll kill us all." She grinned at Teddy cheekily, who just swatted at her.

"I swear to God, if you weren't my only decent seeker you'd be off this team in a heartbeat." Teddy muttered angrily. He paused. "Alright, kids, lets run through that block play, though--Sera had to use it too many times last time, and she had some nasty bruises." I rolled my eyes. "Grace McClellan, get back up here!" Teddy called down to Grace, and Grace stopped running around the pitch. "You're taking too long, just get--hey!" Grace had flipped him the middle finger, and I giggled, then turned and leaned forward on my broom, getting some distance between Teddy and me before I became his next target.

I loved quidditch.

---

"Happy Valentines' Day!" A house elf chirped to me the next morning as I sat down at the Gryffindor table in the great hall, and I scrubbed at my tired eyes, glancing tiredly at Louis beside me: Jamie was late to breakfast most mornings, because he overslept _all the time_.

"It's Valentines' Day?" I asked, confused. Louis nodded tiredly.

"Yep." He said exhaustedly. "I already got two, and Jamie has two waiting for him on his bedside table."

"Hmm." I said, raising my eyebrows. "You two are popular." Louis rolled his eyes, reaching for a croissant and dumping it on his plate before he reached for the Orange Juice.

"I could do without it, thanks." Louis muttered, and I grinned--such a Louis answer. Jamie would be either super unhappy and embarrassed, or get this giant ego--and Louis would be all humble and confused. "I think they're from Daisy or Bethany." He pulled a face as I did. "And I'm surprised you didn't get one." He murmured, and I almost adressed his words, but he hurried on, seeming to think that he'd said something wrong. "But I don't mind those so much as I'm worried about the cupids--they sing." He told me in a scandalized voice, and I stared at him for a moment before I giggled, just imagining Louis or Jamie turning scarlet as a dwarf dressed as a cupid sang some ditty about roses to them.

"Please, God, if and when you or James gets one, let me be there to witness it." I said, cracking a grin, and Louis scowled at me.

"It's not funny." He muttered, already blushing. It was way too easy.

"Yeah it is." I retorted, snorting.

"It was started by this crackpot teacher back when a couple of my uncles and aunts were at Hogwarts--he was an actual crackpot, though--and Longbottom decided to bring it back one year as kind of a joke, except a bunch of people did it." Louis muttered to me. "The entire idea's absolutely _awful_--they stop you in the hallways and sing and sometimes they interrupt your classes and _everyone _hears." He winced. I blanched a little.

"Youch." I murmured. "That would suck."

"Duh." Louis muttered. "Victoire gets a bunch of 'em every year, apparently--she thinks they're cute." Louis shook his head. "She's so... ick, though."

"She's so... _ick_." I echoed. "Ah, now I understand. Thank you, for clearing that up." Louis grinned a little at me, shoving my shoulder good-naturedly, and I stuck my tongue out at him, then picked up an apple and bit into it hungrily: I felt like I hadn't eaten in ages, probably because Teddy had run us through dinner last night. I swore to God, if he didn't start letting us eat, we should start having actual fainting spells on the field just to make him feel guilty. He had to have an ounce of guilt somewhere in his body, right?

We fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, before Edie came and sat next to me, grinning like a Cheshire Cat: my eyebrows flew up as I glanced at Daisy, who was farther down the table and looking displeased as she eyed Edie's chosen seat. "You left these on the bedside table--guessed you missed them when you woke up." Edie said, dumping four assorted red and pink envelopes on my now-empty plate, and I stared, wide-eyed, down at them.

"Not so funny _now_, is it?" Louis said vengefully, and I just elbowed him automatically as Edie got back up.

"Don't worry, I got to them before Daisy did." She said with a brief grin, moving back up the table, and I spared her barely a glance before I glanced back down at the cards now sitting on my plate.

"Who the hell sent me _Valentines?_" I demanded in a scandalized whipser.

"And you thought this was amusing." Louis said in a disgusted voice, shaking his head.

"I don't want to open them--and now we have to go to wake Jamie up." I muttered, grabbing the envelopes and shoving them in my bag.

"I heard they explode if you leave them unopened for two long. Like howlers but _worse_." Louis said with a wicked grin, but he stood up as I did. I shot a nervous glance around me, as if I expected someone to point at me and realize I had four unopened Valentines in my school bag. "With confetti and singing paper and everything."

"You're just saying that." I muttered, raking my hair out of my eyes before I pulled it up into a easy ponytail, a few curly strands falling disobeying my hair tie and falling around my face. I shoved Louis forward, grabbing James a roll so that his stomach wouldn't growl so loudly as to interrupt class. "Go, go, he'll be late." I ordered, but I could tell the pink blush was still burning on my cheeks.

Twenty minutes later, Jamie, Louis and I were slipping into the one class we all had together--Herbology--even as James finished off his roll. We sank into our customary seats in the back row, Rory having saved them for us and sitting beside us, and I dropped my bag on the floor beside my foot, letting it lean against my leg.

"How kind of you to join us, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Finnigan." Professor Longbottom said with a tight smile, even as the final bell rang. "But you're not late, so I shan't deduct points." Longbottom was one of my favorite teachers, just because he tended to cut kids slack on things like being late to class and such. I also liked him because as things went, he was a pretty decent fake legal guardian. And I kind of liked knowing that he'd gone to school with my Dad--it made me trust him a little bit more, because I knew Dad had (or I'd thought he'd had--with my mother, I wasn't so sure) good taste in friends. "Please get out your quils, children, and your textbooks--we've got to get through a lot of material today." He said pleasantly. "Remember, we're going to be starting a project on the flora transferred from continent to continent upon European Explorers' arrival in South America--that's called the Colombian Exchange, for everyone who doesn't remember that--it'll help you look it up in the library. Remember, four scrolls due on my desk no later than the--" He cut off as my bag flap snapped open and the four envelopes zoomed into the air in front of me, floating there. I blushed red instantly, my hand clapping over my mouth before I frantically tried to grab the envelopes so I could stuff them back into my bag--but it was too late. The most red one exploded first in heart-shaped confetti, and I blinked irritatedly, trying to brush the stuff out of my hair and off my desk, before I remembered the rest of what Louis had told me about Valentines--they sang.

"No--" I grabbed the pink one, but it had already begun to sing the cheesy classic:

_Roses are Red_

_Violets are Blue_

_Sugar is Sweet_

_And so are you._

I blushed scarlet again, embarrassment flooding me as I stood up and snatched the other envelopes out of the air, wacking them wordlessly with my wand so that they fell limply back to the desk, and I shoved them back in my bag, looking up Longbottom. My teacher/legal-guardian seemed to be supressing a smile with every ounce of energy in his body. Laughter erupted in the class, and my face burned red again, and I swallowed nervously, glancing at Louis, who shot me a sympathetic look. James snickered a little beside me, and I reached over and punched his shoulder, hard. James stopped, and I glared at him a moment longer before I sank in my seat, wishing I could disappear.

I hated Valentines' Day.

After class, Longbottom beckoned me forward to his desk, and I waved the boys on--I had Potions next anyway, without any of them--as I approached his desk at the front of the Greenhouse.

"Sera?" He asked in a pleasant tone, but I could sense he was probing for something. "I was curious--earlier, when your letter sang," I blushed, "what spell did you use?" He asked me, holding my gaze curiously.

"I--didn't really." I muttered, embarrassed still. "I didn't say anything."

"I thought so--and were you thinking a spell?" He asked me, leaning forward, and I frowned, trying to remember.

"No." I shrugged. "I don't really know any spells to make letters be quiet anyway."

"So what did you do, exactly?" He pressed me.

"I..." I thought for a moment. "I really, _really_ wanted the card to be quiet. And my wand was in my hand anyway and I just kind of whacked it and thought really hard about making it stop." I said softly, crossing my arms. I studied Professor Longbottom for a moment before I went on with a question of my own. "Did I do something wrong?" I asked.

"No, of course not--I'm just surprised at the method, that's all." Professor Longbottom said easily. "Usually, when one doesn't have the spell, the results are...less effective." He said diplomatically. "It speaks highly of your future at Charms, that's all." He waved me on. "You should go, you have class." He told me, and I nodded, turning and rushing out. That had been an oddly cryptic conversation with Longbottom.

I rushed towards the castle, running to catch up with Jamie and Rory, who stopped to wait for me. I caught up with them at the clock tower, and as I hauled open the door to the clock tower, a tiny dwarf jumped cheerfully out before me. I froze, staring down at it.

"No." I said, blushing again.

"Serafina Finnigan, I have a song for you from a secret valentine!" The dwarf said in an alarmingly cheerful voice, and I stared at him, panicked for a moment. But the dwarf continued in an unnaturally soprano voice:

"I'm thinking of you on Valentine's Day;

You are nice, so I want to say:

Give me a clue; give me a sign;

Will you be my Valentine?"

"Gotta give a guy credit." Rory said, supressing a grin, and I shot him a pleading look. "This one didn't do Roses are Red..."

"I'm going to die before midnight." I said in a faint voice. "This is awful."

"Lighten up." Rory ordered, which was ironic because he sounded serious about the instruction. James remained silent, but stepped forward, and picked a piece of heart confetti out of my hair and pressed it into the palm of my hand. I blinked up at him, before he grinned crookedly, and I sighed in exasperation, turning and rushing past the boys and my dwarf friend.

"Wait, I have more!" The dwarf called after me, and I just kept going.

This was it. Next year, on February 14th, I was going to not come to class. I was going to crawl under the covers at 12:01 AM and not wake up until 11:59 PM. Valentines Day sucked.

* * *

So kids, just wanted to let y'all know that, alas, I cannot claim credit for either poem. the first is obviously a classic for unoriginal people everywhere, and the latter is from a website ., and written by a woman named Joanna Fuchs. But it was way too perfect for an eleven-year-old boy to write, so I had to put it in the story.

:] happy soon-to-be valentines day and happy birthday rachel!

also, this is the chapter to top 100,000 words. nobigdeal. :D


	21. Misery Business

So...this is late. And I am sorry about that. However, the forces of the universe teamed up against this: I got a concussion the week I was going to update and missed my JV quarter finals, then we lost our JV semi-finals when I finally did get to play and then I got stuck babysitting these four little boys who I've simultanously there was a snowday on Friday and I built a snowfort. :D anyway, sorry about the delay, kids. And happy belated snowday, my tri-state area friends.

Xoxo

---

Chapter 21

"What is this?" I wondered aloud as I frowned at the paper pinned to the bulletin board in the Gryffindor Common Room. "_A Self-Defense Seminar, required for all first through fifth years, February 27 at six o'clock_? That's tonight." I turned to frown at James, and he just shrugged wordlessly. "Why?" I asked, my voice barely audible over the din of voices: there was literally like, twenty kids all clambering to see what had been posted. Everyone had assumed that this was the new Hogsmeade dates, but no, just something weirder.

It had been almost two weeks since Valentine's Day, and thankfully, Louis and James and Rory had long stopped teasing me over the disaster that was February 14th. To be entirely fair though, we'd had to declare a truce, because someone (it'd been Edie, but the boys were unaware of this, so I wasn't telling) had sent Rory one of those tiny dwarfs with the bow and arrows and songs, except Rory was actually really bothered by it (shocking, yes, I know), so he wouldn't let it sing. He'd _silencio_'d it. Which was, in all technicality, illegal. But once more, we weren't telling. So Rory had been followed about all day by a dwarf who wanted nothing more than to sing to him. And then his brother had caught on--Rory's brother was in fourth year with Wes--and had been so excited at the prospect of mocking Rory for the rest of his life that he'd stalked us around the school. It'd been actually the funniest thing I'd ever seen--but Rory still insisted that my singing valentines in herbology somehow beat that. Which had been determinedly proven wrong when his extremely earnest but silenced dwarf wrote on a classroom wall, in red paint, the song he'd been hired to sing. Rory's face turned so red that we thought he might pass out.

I don't think I've ever laughed so hard.

Anyway, we'd called a truce to never talk about either incident ever again. Which was good, because I had enough to think about: James's birthday was the twenty-eighth, and even though I'd discussed it with Louis and decided not to openly celebrate James's birthday, I was getting him a present, and, as had to be carefully explained to Louis, I had to get him a good present because this was his first birthday of our friendship. And I had made happen the best present ever: a signed beater's bat of Charlie Charapko of the Falmouth Falcons, who had been MVP of the Great Britain & Ireland League three times. James was actually obsessed with the man. And I had campaigned Mrs. Potter to talk to Oliver Wood, who she knew because of her time as a Holyhead Harpie, who worked at the Ministry as the head of the Department of Magical Gaming and Sports. And he had gotten it for Mrs. Potter in a heartbeat, who'd sent it to me with a super-sweet note about what good friends we were.

"Because _someone_ went and got herself beaten up over Winter Break--thanks, Sera." Daisy said sarcastically, and I spun my head to glare at her. Daisy smirked knowingly, and James glared at her wordlessly through the crowd: he hadn't heard what she'd said because of the noise around us, but he knew it hadn't been pleasant. James grabbed my hand and we began to disentangle ourselves from the crowd, and I rewarded him with a grateful smile. But Daisy had none of it, following us until we were standing by ourselves outside the crowded mass of people reading the bulletin board. "Now you've inconvenienced the entire school. I hope you're pleased with yourself." Daisy snorted. "You probably think you're some brave hero now that you've survived these attacks, but it's just luck and the teachers know it. Hence this stupid seminar." She waved her hand in the vague direction of the bulletin board.

"Oh, shut up, Daisy." I muttered, rolling my eyes. "I've got nothing to do with it and you know it. This is bigger than any single kid."

"Then why is this happening for the first time ever?" Daisy asked searingly, pulling her shoulders back as she met my gaze confidently. "This should have started years ago, then, if it has nothing to do with a certain first year whose getting stalked by a bunch of criminals." Daisy raised her eyebrows in a challenge, pursing her lips as she crossed her arms across her chest. "Didn't start when _Harry Potter_ was getting attacked by _Voldemort_. But you and your brother and your stupid mother who doesn't exist and your drunkard of a father who _abandoned_ you send the school into some sort--"

"Don't ever talk about my parents that way again." I hissed at her, taking a step forward as my eyes narrowed. "You don't have any idea what the hell you're talking about—"

"But it's all over the papers," Daisy retorted cruelly. "I know you've seen it—you don't even _know your mother's name_—"

"Shut up." I said angrily, straightening up.

"You don't—"

"Sera told you to shut up." James said angrily, his eyes dark as he stepped between Daisy and me. He glared fiercely at Daisy, and my roommate glared back at him defiantly for a moment, before her chin wobbled and her eyes filled with tears. She whirled around, taking off for the girls' dormitories. We both watched her go before James turned to me, his eyes focusing in on mine acutely. I just met his gaze evenly, taking a deep breath. James and I stood in silence in a moment before he spoke: "Merlin, she's such a delight." He muttered sarcastically, and I glanced away. James straightened up, looking angrier. "She's just trying to mess with your head, Sera, you know that." His voice was uncharacteristically soft, and I smiled weakly at my best friend, pulling my hair out of my face and pulling it all to one side: I always fiddled with my hair when I was uncomfortable. "It's not even true."

"Not necessarily." I protested quietly. A frown marred James's features, but I continued. "Just because she's obnoxious doesn't make her wrong, Jamie."

"But she is." James insisted. I looked away, swallowing, before I looked back up at James, licking my lips once before I spoke.

"I don't know my mom's name." I said finally. "And I am getting attacked left and right. And your dad and Dean and Louis's dad all talked to the school about better practical training for the younger kids after the Diagon Alley attack." I ran a tired hand through my hair. "She's not wrong." I finished softly.

"She's not _right_," James protested.

"She might be." I murmured. James scowled, shaking his head, but before he had the chance to respond, Aileen Quigley came over, twirling her long dark hair around her finger as she smiled sweetly at Jamie. I looked away, blinking away sudden moisture in my eyes as Aileen engaged Jamie in something that resembled talking to a wall: James was obviously preoccupied with our conversation.

"I'm going to my grandparents home in Argentina—I _love_ it there, it's so warm." Aileen gushed, leaning forward a little, and I raised my eyebrows. She and Bethany were constantly trying to engage James and Louis in conversation, but they were rarely so forward with how badly they wanted to talk to the boys. "What're you doing for spring break?" Aileen asked, her glance flickering to me with a tepid smile when James didn't answer. "Sera?" She continued after a moment when I didn't immediately respond. "Got any big plans?"

"Um." I blushed in embarrassment. "Not really." I didn't even have a place to stay over spring break, or people to stay with. Aileen blushed scarlet as she realized her mistake and my lack of a response, genuine apology running over her features.

"I'm so sorry!" She said, clapping a hand to her forehead. "I—I was just trying to—"

"I know." I said tiredly, smiling a little at her: she wasn't always nice, but she was being nice now. "James is going to Africa, right Jamie?" I said with a forced grin at my best friend, and Aileen looked immensely grateful at how I was involving James in the conversation. James shot me his regular stony gaze. "Where in Africa?" I knew the answer to this, but I had to shove him into talking to Aileen, who was trying hard.

"Kenya." James acknowledged quietly: while he might have simply ignored Aileen's questions, he would always answer mine. I knew that. A genuine spark of interest lit on Aileen's face, but Louis approached, swinging his arm around my shoulders with a polite-but-please-leave smile at Aileen.

"Hey, I was just going to head down to the kitchens for some food before this stupid seminar." Louis said easily, looking at Jamie and me. "Wanna come with?"

"Yeah." James said quietly, turning away from Aileen a little rudely, and I smiled a little at Aileen.

"See you later." I said, before turning away with Louis, who dropped his arm from around my shoulders as we ducked out the portrait hole. James was waiting right outside, and he didn't even wait for the portrait of the fat lady to close before he snorted.

"Daisy is not right." He protested.

"She's not wrong either." I said seriously.

"Your dad didn't _abandon_ you, he's not a drunk, and there are plenty of acceptable not-so-scary reasons that you don't know your mum's name." James rattled off as the portrait closed: Louis looked from James to me to James and back to me in confusion. He hadn't been there when we'd started this debate.

"Okay, yeah, Dad's neither a jackass who abandoned his kids nor a drunk, but I _don't _know my mom's name." I said evenly.

"What did Daisy _say_?" Louis demanded, confused.

"Nothing." James and I shot out at the same time, and Louis rolled his eyes, but we all fell silent. James and I held one another's gaze for a moment longer before I looked away, glancing at Louis.

"You were hungry, right?" I asked quietly. Louis nodded, frowning a little as he looked at me, and I just crossed my arms and passed both of the boys, walking towards the kitchens in silence.

An hour later, we were standing in the Great Hall with the rest of the first-through-fourth years, and we were watching Longbottom warily as he crossed to the middle of the dais where the teachers usually ate at the front of the hall. "Alright, kids, welcome to the first practical self-defense seminar," Longbottom began, and I yawned tiredly, leaning my head on Jamie's shoulder: he slipped his arm around my shoulders. "We're going to split into different groups due to the obvious age—" Longbottom fell silent as I saw a hand shoot up across the room. "Um, okay, Miss Saab, what's your question?" I swallowed: Divya was the one raising her hand. I hadn't been able to tell from where I'd been sitting before this.

"Why are we having this seminar when there's never been anything like this before at Hogwarts?" Divya asked, her voice perfectly innocent, and my stomach twisted in guilt as my gaze flicked to Longbottom. Stupid Slytherin kids were trying to make the same point that Daisy had made in the Common Room an hour ago. "I mean we didn't even have this during the Wizarding Wars,"

"Well, Miss Saab, there have been some dangerous attacks recently and we wish all of our students to be safe." Longbottom said pleasantly.

"But haven't those attacks been...targeted?" This time it was a Hufflepuff third year whose name I didn't know, and he didn't sound like he meant to make Wes and me awkward. The kid was just curious. All the same, though, I felt a wave of resentment towards him: he had to be thirteen or fourteen. By that age, you had enough tact not to bring up stuff like that.

"Well, yes—"

"I mean, the only people who got attacked have been Sera and Wes." Rory's brother said, and I crossed my arms across my chest, as Rory, who was standing in front of me, glanced back at me apologetically. "But there have been other people with them when they get attacked." I relaxed: Conan was defending us. "Besides, it's practical to learn this stuff, guys." Conan sort of annoyed, and I smiled shyly at Rory, who flashed a grin back at me.

"Exactly, Mr. Corner," Professor Longbottom said easily. "Now, we're splitting into age groups because you're obviously at different levels: first years, please stay put; second years, please follow Professor Lovegood; third years, follow Professor Gilbert; and fourth years, please follow the Headmistress." There were a few minutes while everyone got up and left, leaving the first years. "Alright," Professor Longbottom said with a smile to all of us. "You all can sit down now that there's some room..." We sat automatically, clumping together. "Alright, guys, as we've already established, this is a self-defense seminar, mostly to supplement Defense Against the Dark Arts, which doesn't really get practical until third year." He paused. "I'm just going to ask a few questions to see where you all are: how many of you know a defensive spell? A counter-curse, a shield spell, whichever..." About fifteen of the forty first years in the hall raised their hands, and Longbottom nodded. "How many of you think you could perform one?" He asked, and a few more hands dropped.

"Only nine?" Louis murmured beside me, frowning. "That doesn't seem right." Louis, Jamie, Rory and I all had our hands raised, as did Brian Gallagher, Greg Landau, Madeleine Holbrook (a Ravenclaw), Divya and Pamela Lance (a Ravenclaw). No Hufflepuffs raised their hands, and I raised my eyebrows, exchanging looks with James: the Hufflepuff kids weren't necessarily the brightest, but for not one of them to be able to perform a shield spell, it was kind of pathetic.

"Alright." Longbottom said easily, nodding once. "And how many of you know curses?" Several Slytherin hands shot up, as did more Gryffindor and Ravenclaw ones. Two Hufflepuff boys raised their hands, grinned recklessly, and I would have bet a million galleons their curses were better for pranks than actual fighting. "How many can perform it?" Longbottom continued after a moment. A couple of Slytherin hands reluctantly dropped, and one Hufflepuff boy's hand dropped; several Ravenclaws lowered their hands as well. Even Rory lowered his hand, and I frowned at him—hadn't he hurled a curse when those guys in the forest attacked us? But he just shook his head once, looking forward again.

So all that was left was Brian, Greg, Hufflepuff boy whose name I didn't know, Louis, James and me.

"Alright...I'd like a demonstration of first a shield spell, then a curse: who raised their hands for both?" Longbottom questioned: Brian, Greg, Louis, Jamie and me. "Alright." He said after a moment. "Miss Finnigan, Mr. Landau, please come up here." I pushed myself to my feet, grateful that this had been deemed casual attire, so I was in jeans and a zip-up hoodie: doing this in my robes would have been such a pain. Greg crossed to the front of the room as well, and we stood facing each other. "Now, Mr. Landau, I would like you to try to cast the Jelly-Legs jinx on Miss Finnigan—and Miss Finnigan I'd like you to repel it, either with a counter-curse or a shield spell." I positioned myself awkwardly across from Greg, taking a deep breath as he said the incantation, and the spell came out, light pink in color.

"_Protego_," I said easily, barely moving my wand, and my red shield spell jumped from my wand to overwhelm the jinx midair, exploding in a mass of sparks.

"Good job!" Professor Longbottom said approvingly. "Keep going—though no harmful curses, understood? Charms and jinxes will work well enough for the point of the lesson. And you both may defend or attack, now." He asked, and Greg and I nodded.

"_Rictusempra_," Greg said uncertainly, and I swiped my wand once wordlessly, grinning a little as the Gryffindor kids cheered as my shield spell came and blocked his charm. "_Serpensortia."_ He said after a moment, and a snake emerged from his wand: my eyebrows flew up as my mind raced. I knew a spell for this, I knew I did.

"_Pepulsi,_" I said after a moment, and the snake vanished. Greg muttered the Trip Jinx and I slashed out a shield spell, and then Greg more determinedly shot out:

"_Tarantallegra_." He muttered, and I backed up a step as I shield-spelled it.

"_Expelliarmus_." I said easily to Greg, my eyes zeroing in on his wand: I was competitive, sometimes, and being pitted against Greg was bringing that out. I had to win, now.

"_Protego. Rictusempra!"_

_"Protego, Expelliarmus!" _Greg's wand flew from his hands, and I levitated it into mine, grinning as Rory and Edie whooped and the Slytherin kids all glared at me.

"Very good, guys, both of you." Longbottom said sincerely, and Greg came forward, looking kind of mad, but I just handed his wand back to him. "Mr. Landau that was very good use of the Snake-Summoning spell, and Miss Finnigan, your banishment charm was flawless. Ten points to Gryffindor." I handed Greg's wand back to him. "Alright, who else would like to take a try?" He waved Greg and I down the steps. "Please shake hands to officiate the end of the duel but then take your seats."

Greg and I shook hands, and he pulled me an inch closer while he was still holding my hand. "Bet you cheated, mudblood." He muttered, and I shoved away from him, my grin dropping as I glared at him, my eyes flashing as we pulled away from each other. We turned to descend the steps, and I purposely stepped closer to Greg as we jogged down.

"Better a mudblood than Brian's lackey." I pulled away from Greg before he could retort, smirking as I felt his dark scowl on my back, and I picked my way carefully through the kids, getting a few high fives along the way, from Edie, Aileen, and Neil. I moved to where James and Louis were sitting, right behind Rory: I dropped down beside Rory. James tapped my shoulder, and I glanced back at him.

"What'd Greg say to you?" He demanded in a whisper, frowning, as Professor Longbottom called up a Hufflepuff boy and Divya.

"Said I probably cheated and I was a mudblood," I said quietly, cocking an eyebrow. "I told him better than Brian's lackey, and you're still not allowed to kill him." I finished jokingly, Louis smiled weakly, but James's expression just continued to darken. I watched his eyes flash for a moment before I shook my head. "Your face will get stuck that way you know." I told James, and he just took a deep breath through his nose.

"This should bother you more." James muttered, and I just shrugged. It probably would have bothered me more had I not been so pleased with my dueling abilities. "Seriously."

"Eh, not really." I said. "Greg doesn't matter, in the grand scheme of things."

"That's very mature of you." Louis said approvingly.

"And he doesn't matter _more_," I continued, grinning at Rory. "Because I beat him. So I win, and he loses. Sucks for him, go me!" Rory laughed beside me, earning himself a silencing look from Longbottom, and even James chuckled once.

"Slightly less mature." Louis noted, sounding bemused. I just grinned unrepentantly back at him, before turning back around to watch my year-mates duel. I'd won.

---

The next morning I woke up outrageously early, and for once in my life, I swung my legs out of my bed almost a moment after I woke up, pulling on the Chudley Cannons sweatshirt I'd yet to give back to Louis before I grabbed the already-wrapped present. I jogged down the steps, then turned in the common room to jog back up the steps of the boys' dorms, this time more quietly. I was more scared of the older boys than I was of the older girls, all of whom seemed sort of sympathetic towards me. The older boys just kind of regarded me as Wes's little sister.

I opened the first-year boys' dorms door silently, creeping inside, and James, sitting in the windowsill, turned to look at me. I blinked, then frowned. "You were supposed to be asleep, birthday boy." I muttered unhappily, and James raised his eyebrows, his eyes flicking down to the present in my hands then back up to my face. I blushed suddenly. "I know you didn't want a present, but I figured that maybe if I just left it like on your bedside table and you always wake up late which would mean you could open it and it wouldn't be stressful or anything like that," I was babbling now, in a whisper, but that didn't make it better: I couldn't stop. "I didn't want to antagonize you or anything--just, you know, celebrate your birthday, because I went to a lot of trouble to get Louis a good present and I didn't want you to feel unloved, you know? Because you're my best friend and I couldn't do that because I do love you. Besides, I want a birthday present from both of you." James raised his eyebrows as I finished my whisper-speech. He blinked a couple of times before he grinned a little, looking genuinely delighted. Then he seemed to have enough sense to smother the smile, and he rose from his spot at the windowsill to grab my hand, leading me out of the room and back down to the common room. He waited until we'd sank down on the floor in front of the fire to speak.

"You're insane." James murmured to me.

"Yeah, well, you make me nervous, dork." I shot back. "And this present's from _mainly_ me. But I thought of it, and Louis really just helped me ask your mom for help because I couldn't make this happen on my own." I shoved the present at him, and he caught it, his gaze flicking down at it for barely a moment before he looked up at me.

"Why do I make you nervous?" He asked me softly, and I tucked a few stray hairs behind my ear.

"Because you're my best friend and today's your birthday." I murmured to him, my voice just as soft. "And you're... I dunno." I blushed. "Jamie, you've been super great through all this crap with my parents. I owe you a good birthday."

'You don't _owe_ me." He protested, but he was grinning. "You're such a sap."

"You're _sappier_." I accused. "I'm at least talking seriously. You're _taking_ my talking seriously." I nodded. James rolled his eyes. "Now open your stupid present, you big jerk."

"Just cuz I'm bigger than you doesn't mean I'm big." James retorted. "You're tiny."

"You're oversized. Open!" I commanded, and James chuckled but obeyed, carefully untying the bow and unwrapping the present. He opened the box, and froze, before he looked up at me with a grin.

"Is this..." James's voice was hushed. "Oh, _hell_--this is a freaking _signed beater's bat_!" James sounded reverent. "You're actually the best present giver ever, I hope you're aware of that." He murmured, sparing me a glance, and I grinned again, bouncing forward to sit beside him. He moved the box off his lap and hugged me to him tightly, and then I completely spontaneously kissed his cheek. James and I pulled back immediately. A blush rose to my face, and I blinked at James nervously. "Um, thank you," He said softly.

"You're welcome," I said shyly. I swallowed. "I'm, um, glad you like it." I groaned internally: this was _so awkward_. I hated how this had happened--I wasn't even sure what on the planet earth had possessed me to kiss James's cheek. What the hell was wrong with me? We were friends, just friends, that was all, and aside from that, I _liked _being James's friend. James was my _best friend_ in the entire world. What the hell was I doing screwing that up?

And at five thirty in the morning?

"I really do." James said softly. We sat in silence for a moment before James looked back into the box. "Who..._Oh my God,_ Charlie Charapko signed this. I freaking _love_ you." James grinned back at me, the awkwardness forgotten, and I grinned back at him out right.

What would my life have been like without Jamie? For awkard or not awkward?


	22. Spun

Chapter 22

"Wake up, wake up, wake up." Edie chanted above my bed excitedly, and I blinked up at my roommate: she and Aileen were bending over me excitedly, and I blinked up at them tiredly. "Sera, this is actually hysterical _wake up_." I scowled as my roommates came into focus, pulling my blankets over my head, and Edie pulled them back insistently. "You need to see this, if you are any kind of self-respecting sister who will torture your brother about his mercilessly."

"This better be good." I muttered, blinking up at them, before Aileen shoved a magazine into my chest: I caught it and pushed myself up into a sitting position, keeping my blankets securely around my legs. I pulled it away from myself before glancing down at it. I stared down at it for a moment, then glanced up at my roommates, then back down at it. This was beautiful.

My brother's picture—a photograph of him from Hogsmeade that was surely taken by another student—is grinning out at me, his arm around Selma's waist. _Most Charming Smile Award to new Teen Heart Throb Wesley Finnigan._

"Oh, God, it is," I said, cracking up, and Edie nodded, clasping her hands in front of her face with a giant grin.

"I know you like to sleep in but this was too good to let slide." Edie agreed.

"I want props. I found it." Aileen said raising her hand, and I grinned at her, hugging her briefly for a moment before I released her, a wicked grin on my face already.

"Alright, I've got to take some action—I'll be back." I sprang up from the bed, darting towards my bedroom door and down the steps of the girls' dormitories. It didn't matter I was just in my pajama boxers and a tank-top, because it was a Saturday, and everyone kind of wandered around in their PJs in the Common Room anyway.

I spotted Wes in the common room, a grin on my face as I approached where he was sitting with his friend. Wes raised his eyebrows as he watched me: he could sense trouble a mile off, with me. He separated himself from Eli, who was sitting beside him, and leaned forward. "Hey Ser," He said, looking a little confused: we didn't really talk a lot during the week, when we weren't meeting with Longbottom. My approach usually would have meant something was wrong. "What's up?" I flashed a brief smile at the both of them, stopping a few feet before Wes.

"Nothing much, youngest ever winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award." I said with an unholy grin, holding the magazine out for Wes but out of his arms reach, and my brother turned white, standing and reaching out for the copy of the magazine. I pulled it back quickly, earning a grin from Eli as I held it up like I was a game show host or something. "Are you proud? You should be proud." I told him easily.

"Sera, what the—" Wes growled, reaching out for it again.

"Hey, this is a first year's and _not mine_. You really wanna steal from a first year you don't know? That seems excessively hostile." I said, raising my eyebrows. "Especially for winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile." I shook my head. "The Editor would not be very pleased to know that you've got such an angry glare. Or that you use it on your pathetic eleven-year-old sister."

"Serafina, you have ten seconds the tell me who owns it before I decide its yours and blast it to pieces." Wes threatened. I snorted in laughter. "Ten, Nine,"

"It's my roommate's!" I interupted quickly, holding up my free hand frantically to stop him. I grinned as he fell silent, his eyes narrowing as his nostrils flared. "She woke me up so I'd have the personal pleasure of torturing you about—Hey!" I protested as Wes leapt forward and snatched the magazine, now turning scarlet.

"No." He moaned, looking down at it despairingly: I giggled happily. "I hate this—what the hell _is_ this?" He smacked the magazine, looking down at me. "Are they allowed to publish this without my consent? Because I know I didn't consent to this." He ran a hand through his hair, looking back down at the magazine with a glare. "And it's not like we have actual guardians to consent to it."

"Longbottom and Patil count." I said, my grin fading a little. "They sign permission slips and stuff." I swallowed, hating that we'd already looped back around to this subject. I snatched the magazine back and crossed to sink down tiredly on the couch. "That's sort of their entire purpose." I pulled my knees up to my chest and flipped open Edie's magazine, purposely not meeting Wes's now-guilty gaze. I saw in my peripheral vision Wes look at Eli worriedly, and I just swallowed, turning a couple of pages in the magazine before that photograph taken in Diagon Alley—where Teddy's putting me on a stretcher, Mrs. Potter in the background, her arms anchoring James to her—caught my eye. I took a deep breath, forcing myself to consider the other photos on the page, before my gaze flicked to the article on the page facing it.

_Finnigan Trial Looms, Poses New Questions_

_Antonia Holbrook_

_We've all been fascinated from Day One in the Finnigans: they are the rare open display case of failure of the Ministry, in recent years. The Finnigans, it is believed, have been missing since late September. Their absence was not told to their children until October, and they were not declared missing by the ministry until after the attack on Serafina Finnigan, Louis Weasley and Lily Potter in Diagon Alley (which followed an attack on Serafina Finnigan by a bludger, an attack on Wesley Finnigan by a bludger--these were two separate incidents, an attack on Serafina Finnigan, Divya Saab and James Potter by the giant Squid in the Hogwarts Lake, and an attack on Serafina Finnigan, James Potter and Rory Corner in Hogsmeade). And recently it's been revealed that the woman known as Elisabeth Finnigan is infact nameless, not even legally the children's mother, though that remains undetermined biologically._

_What is also undetermined, though, is who should become these children's guardian. Currently Neville Longbottom and Parvati Patil split custody of the children because of their attendance at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and for a brief few days in January, William Weasley had custody of Serafina because she was staying with the family. But these measures are all temporary, instituted due to the lack of precedent in terms of this case and to stop the bad press that had been cropping up about the Ministry._

_Dean and Monica Thomas (Dean Thomas's name might be familiar as he was a war hero of sorts in the Second Wizarding Wars, and are family friends of the Potters; Mrs. Thomas, also, frequents our society pages) are indicated as the children's guardians in Seamus Finnigan's will, but as there is no confirmation of Mr. Finnigan's death, the will's rule is not yet law. What holds more sway, in fact, is the claim of an elderly woman who lives in Ireland, alone, in a castle that is straight out of Irish Mythology._

_Saraid MacBride Finnigan, the children's grandmother._

_You may be familiar with her, if you were sentient for the Second Wizarding Wars. She was a ministry official during Voldemort's rise to power in the late nineties who, aside people like Bellatrix Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov and Lucius Malfoy (death eaters), condemned werewolves, centaurs, giants, and pretty much all that wasn't strictly human and pureblood, despite her own son's half-blood status. She was opposed to Harry Potter and everything he stood for at the time and now. So it's suprising that she's stepped forward to contact the Ministry and commit her interest to perhaps housing the children._

_Now, to remind you, it's been confirmed that Serafina Finnigan is friends with both James Potter and Louis Weasley (sons of Harry Potter and Ginny Potter, and Bill Weasley and Fleur Weasley, respectively). And this is in addition to the fact that she and Wesley are both on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, which is captained by Teddy Lupin. There is also that stunning photograph that shows Teddy Lupin working to save Serafina at the Diagon Alley Attack on the 23rd of December. And, as if all this weren't enough, Seamus Finnigan was in the same year in school with Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter._

_So Mrs. MacBride-Finnigan does not seem the wisest guardian choice, right?_

_Wrong, according to an insider at the Ministry. The Family Dispute Committee of the Wizengamot wants to place all the children who come through the court in the care of relatives, if at all possible. There are exceptions to this, but political views is not one. "It would be more than unheard of," My source told me. "Especially in this political climate where the extremist groups are so few and not grappling for power the same way they were twenty years ago."_

_But this means that these children, who are so closely entwined with the Weasley-Potter clan, will most likely go to Mrs. Finnigan. And this is despite the fact that Dean Thomas, the children's godfather, has been working for custody in the months since the disappearance!_

_The Finnigans have gotten the rough end of the deal, in terms of Ministry Bureaucracy, and I firmly believe that this entire shenanigan is atrocious: that Serafina and Wesley have been lacking an actual legal guardian for this long is a horrific flaw that ended up with Wesley Finnigan signing all of Serafina's medical releases at St. Mungo's when she reciveved treatement for injuries. These are children! That a fourteen-year-old ever had to make medical decisions for an eleven-year-old is simply a failing of government that cannot be overlooked. The Custody Trial date needs to be moved up and these children need to be placed in someone's care, preferably not Mrs. MacBride-Finnigan's._

_But we're still obligated to obey the law._

_So short of storming on the Minstry, we must simply accept these atrocities and pray that Kingsley Shacklebolt's public apology and promise of a personal interest in the case was legitimate._

_I'll have the story fresh from the coutroom in a special addition of this magazine, featuring a timeline of The Finnigan Case, on April 8th._

I felt my blood run cold as I gaped at the article, my pulse pounding in my ears. "Wes?" I asked, the tremor in my voice audible as I looked up at my brother. Wes's gaze flew down to me, concern evident in his features as he heard the new note in my voice. My brother's best friend shifted awkwardly beside me as his grin faded rapidly: he had also realized I wasn't making fun of my brother anymore. "Is this true?" I asked Wes shakily, hating the vulnerable tone in my voice. I held out the magazine, and Wes frowned, plucking the magazine from my hands and glancing over the piece I'd just read. I watched him nervously, swallowing hard and sniffing as I crossed my arms across my chest. Wes distractedly took off his sweatshirt and passed it to me, and I slid it on, feeling a little better as I flashed a small smile to Wes in thanks. He wasn't thinking about that anymore, though: his frown had darkened to a terrifying scowl, and he glanced over the top of the magazine to shoot me a shocked look: he'd heard as little about this as I had. I pinched the bridge of my nose, then rubbed my forehead before I looked back up at my brother, my eyebrows drawing together in concern.

"I doubt it if only because no one's told us about it." Wes said quietly, and I sighed, pulling his sweatshirt more tightly around me as I curled up against the couch. Eli rose carefully to his feet, clapping Wes on the back as he passed him, and Wes sighed heavily but sat down beside me on the couch, his arm resting on the back of the couch, so that his hand was inches from my face.

"That doesn't mean much, these days." I murmured. Wes pushed his hair out of his face, the movement slow and exhausted. "As Daisy's mother so kindly pointed out, no one even told us Mum and Dad were missing for a month since it happened."

"Kid, you've gotta have a little faith." Wes told me softly, and I swallowed, wrapping my arms around my legs. "I know we've had a rough time recently, and things aren't going to be perfect for a while, but things are getting better. We've just got to hang in there." He paused, his gaze honest as he looked at me sadly. "And Dad's Mum doesn't actually know us, which might be an obstacle in her way."

"Doesn't mean she wouldn't take us." I said, holding Wes's gaze with my own grim one. "We don't even know Mum's name and she raised us." I pointed out, hating how bitter I sounded but unable to stop: everything I was saying was _true_.

"Dean and Monica will take care of this, Ser." Wes assurred me quietly, giving me a brief smile as he ran an easy hand over my hair in a soothing gesture. "And I'll take care of you, and we'll manage. Everything will turn out okay, even if it isn't, now." Wes sighed quietly, taking a deep breath as he realized he was making an impromptu chin-up speech. "I just need you to hang in there." Wes said firmly, before he grinned dimly and ruffled my hair. "Now go play dolls or something. You're a kid, and it's Saturday morning, and now you're moping. There should be laws against this."

"You're a kid too, genius." I told him, but I forced a grin back: faking it until it was real was a remarkably good strategy, I'd found. "And I haven't played with dolls since I was like eight years old."

"That was three years ago, don't get so high on that horse." Wes retorted. "And it's not like you've grown." I scowled at him, flicking his arm.

"I wouldn't want to contradict Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile." I said after a moment, solemnly, and Wes grinned. I stuck my tongue out at him as I leapt up from the couch, taking his sweatshirt with me: Wes rolled his eyes, but didn't follow. "See you later, Wes." I called back to him, and I shrugged my shoulders and put my hands in the giant pockets, crossing the boy's dorms' entrance. I jogged up the steps and knocked on the second year boys' dorms easily, leaning back against the wall as I heard a scuffle inside. Gerard DuEfee, a French boy in Alec's year, opened the door, fitting his body neatly in the crack presented there. "Yes?" He asked unpleasantly.

"I need to talk to Alec." I said with a brief, polite smile. The boy's eyes narrowed.

"Why?" He asked. I raised my eyebrows.

"You his secretary?" I asked with a grin. "If so then can you take a message?" The boy scowled, but opened the door wider, turning his back on me as he stalked into the room, and I followed him, spotting Alec sitting on his bed.

"Your godsister's here, charming as always." Gerard growled at Alec, and he looked up at me, his eyebrows raised.

"Ser?" He asked.

"Came in to warn you." I said with a tight smile, crossing to his bed and dropping the magazine on his bed. I flipped open to the page with the story and passed it to Alec.

"What's this?" He asked, frowning up at me. He glanced at the page opposite the article. "Holy—this picture is from Diagon Alley?" Alec asked, sitting up straight as he spotted the other picture. "_Shit,_ that's a lot of blood."

"That's nice." I said sarcastically. "No, I meant you were supposed to read the article, stupid."

"This is the scariest freaking picture I've ever seen." Alec said, glancing up at me.

"I'm fine now, read the article." I ordered, tapping the paper with my hand, but Alec ignored me blatantly.

"It's like a horror movie," Alec muttered, looking back down at the photograph. "Or a car crash. I can't stop looking—but, shit, Sera, you look like absolute crap. This is actually making me so past nervous."

"Does that really seem like the appropriate thing to say to your godsister?" I demanded suspiciously, leaning back and putting my hands on my hips as my eyes narrowed. "Because I'm leaning towards no."

"I feel like these questions always get me in trouble." Alec murmured, his gaze flicking over to the article as he leaned back on his bed, and I sank down on the end of his bed, looking around his room. Gerard was scowling down at a notebook on his bed now, and I snickered: he glared at me from his bed, and I grinned incorrigibly at him

"We're not supposed to have girls in the rooms, guys." Duane said as he walked in, and I pouted. He glanced up at me with a rueful smile.

"Duane!" I protested. "Duane! That's not fair! We're teammates! Allies in the battle against insane quidditch captains and eccentric announcer older brothers!"

"Sorry, Sera, but I'm not risking Teddy's wrath." Duane said apologetically. "And we all bore witness to what happened when Malcolm told him that you were in the first-years' dormitory. I'm not going to be a reserve keeper just to let you sit here."

"What the _fuck_?!" Alec exploded as he finished the article, seeming kind of non sequitor, and I glanced back at him and nodded once. He shot up straight, his angry, worried gaze on me, and I swallowed. "Is this true?" I shrugged a little.

"No one's mentioned it to me or Wes, but there's nothing to be said for that, these days." I said quietly, ignoring how his roommates seemd suddenly very fascinated with everything but us. I couldn't help but feel a little grateful though: I didn't necessarily want all of these guys in on my personal business, even if they were Alec's friends (except for Gerard. I didn't care if he was friends with Alec, he was staying the hell out of my business). "Just thought I'd let you know so you could maybe ask your parents about it?"

"Course." Alec said easily. He paused, though, and a wrinkle formed between his eyebrows as he frowned a little. "But you could too, you know." His voice was gentle, and I saw, in the edges of my vision, his friends exchange looks: this wasn't Alec's usual tone of voice. "They really want you to write them." Alec murmured.

"I--wasn't sure." I admitted softly, leaning against Alec's canopy-bed bedpost. "I mean, we've had all this crap going on."

"Mum and Dad think of Wes and you like their kids." Alec scoffed, reaching out flick my arm. "You know that, stupid." I grinned at this partciular brand of Alec's affection, and also because there was a warm feeling welling in my chest: I did still have Dean and Monica, even if I did have a noticable lack of present adults. Alec grinned back at mebefore looking down at the photograph in the magazine again. "Shit this thing is scary as hell."

"Stop looking at it then!" I protested, glaring at how stupid he was.

"I never saw any of the pictures after attack." Alec admitted. "Mum and Dad stopped all media from entering the house." I felt a twinge of jealousy that Alec's parents were there to do that for him, but I swallowed it: Dean and Monica would have done that for me, had I been there.

"You're the only person on earth." Duane said skeptically, shooting me a glance. "I think there was the biggest communal freak-out of a Gryffindor Quidditch team ever when we saw the front page of the prophet that day." I blushed, grabbing my magazine back and snapping it shut. "Even Eric was worried." I smiled a little unsurely at Duane before I stood up, beginning to back towards the door as I flashed a smile at Alec, who was shooting a pointed _you're-an-idiot_ glare at Duane.

"See you guys later," I said faintly. "I'm gonna go see—"

"Your boyfriend?" Gerard asked meanly, and I stopped in my tracks, putting my hands on my hips, the magazine rolled up in my hand.

"I don't _have_ a boyfriend, DuEfee." I growled, glaring at him. I hated Gerard: he liked the bully first years for the hell of it.

"Heard about the Valentines, though." Gerard shot back. "Where'd all those come from, if no boyfriend?"

"Gerard," Alec snapped, standing up tiredly and scowling darkly at Gerard. "Leave her alone." Alec's words were a warning, and Gerard looked like he was going to murder someone, but he just rolled his eyes and sat back on his bed, and I exchanged annoyed looks wtih Alec.

"Ser, we've got practice in forty minutes." Duane reminded me quietly, and I sighed in exasperation.

"I appreciate that this is Teddy's last year and all--but it's freaking nine thirty on a Saturday morning. He has no emotion." I said in irritation, and Duane chuckled easily.

"Yeah, well, until someone summons up the courage to say that, I'm going to put on my practice stuff and get down to the pitch." Duane said with his eyebrows raised, and I turned on my teammate and left the room, calling over my shoulder I'd see Alec later.

I wandered back up to my room, dropping Edie's magazine on her bed, and my mind shifted into thinking how things were kind of settling down. I mean, Mum was still a non-entity, and Mum and Dad were still missing. But it sounded like we would have a legal guardian by mid-April sometime (I was warned the custody deal could last for a while) and Wes and I would, in all likelihood, be together, and with Dean and Monica and Alec and everyone who was as close to family members as we'd get. And I had Jamie and Louis to last me until then--which, granted, wouldn't get me through an extremely lonely Spring Break with Headmistress Patil and whoever else had to stay so Wes and I didn't burn down the school, but I'd send them letters and stuff. And Wes would probably be nice to me. He'd been a lot better about that since I'd started at Hogwarts.

But I still didn't want to be without Jamie or Louis over Spring Break. But I couldn't ask the Potters to take me with them: it was an expensive trip they were going on, that had been pre-booked months in advance and stuff. And since Mum and Dad had been declared officially MIA by the Ministry (Missing in Action only because they were working at the time of their disappearance, not because their abduction had anything to do with their job), we had no money. And I'd been uncomfortable asking the Potters or Dean and Monica (who were theoretically going to be taking care of me until I turned seventeen) to pay for my part of the trip. Because I simply couldn't: Mum and Dad's funds had been frozen to all but them, the concept being that if someone made a withdrawl, the Ministry wanted to be able to trace it back to who it was without worrying that it was just Wes and me. So now the _Ministry_ was paying our Hogwarts tuitions and paying each of us a small allowance, beacuse they were trying to be responsible after the fiasco my parents' disappearance had caused. So Wes and I were walking charity cases, and I was still praying that it never hit the papers. So far it hadn't, and Mr. Potter had sworn he'd take pains to keep it that way, but I knew Mr. Potter didn't control everything.

I swallowed suddenly at the lump in my throat and then cleared my throat, taking a deep breath before I turned to my trunk and opened it, pulling out my Quidditch Robes. Wes and me--we'd be fine. I had to believe that.

---

I shifted awkwardly from foot to foot in the Gryffindor Common Room three days later, the Saturday that most of my classmates got carted back to their respective families, and Wes and me got left back at school. It was worse, now, too, because Dean had offered to have us go to his house, but because he was engaging in a custody battle now with our grandmother, the court had specifically instructed Longbottom and Patil that we weren't allowed to leave school grounds for any reason. Dean was allowed to visit us, and stuff, but we had to be at Hogwarts.

Dean was, reasonably, irate at this. Because the Ministry was nervous, essentially, that there'd be some sort of kidnapping of the Custodially Ambiguous Finnigan children.

But now I had to say goodbye to everyone: Alec, Jamie, and Louis were the three that I absolutely _had_ to say goodbye to, I'd decided early on. But Louis was helping James do some last minute packing and David Bulby, the sixth year prefect who was on my quidditch team, had directed me that he would not hesitate to tell Longbottom on me if I was caught in their dorm again (it was a _freaking stupid_ rule) so now I got to be awkwardly alone in the Common Room while everyone around me chatted excitedly about their plans. Yay.

"Alec, hey," I said with a tight smile as my godbrother came down the steps, lugging his trunk behind him, and he looked at me, his lips set in a grim line. He came to stand a few feet in front of me, and I smiled weakly at him. "You better write me." I muttered.

"Yeah, yeah." He said. "Don't get hurt or anything, okay? Dad scares easily." I knew this was code for _I'll flip out, be safe_, but I let him go with it, grinning a little before I hugged him briefly. He chuckled, and patted my back once, before he released me awkwardly. He paused, looking like he was about to turn away before he paused. "And if you do get hurt, you better call me. I refuse to learn about this stuff from the newspapers before I hear it in person." I laughed softly, punching his arm lightly, and Alec rolled his eyes. "Seriously, brat."

"Eh, maybe." I said, shrugging, then grinned as Alec's expression darkened. "Relax, dork. I'll floo you if anything happens, I swear it. You guy's will be at home?"

"Yeah." Alec said quietly. He paused. "It's stupid you can't come home with me."

"So stupid." I agreed. I paused. "But I mean, I'll be with you guys this summer, probably." I shrugged, and Alec nodded.

"Okay, Ser, I'm gonna go back to my friends..." Alec said awkwardly, and I nodded, then glanced back, realizing David was _very caught up_ (coughcough making out coughcough) in a goodbye with a fellow sixth year (a girl). I grinned.

"I'm gonna sneak upstairs--do me a favor, if you see David, distract him or something." I requested, and Alec chuckled but nodded as he turned away. I darted towards the boys' dorms' stairs and ran up, breathing a sigh of relief as I turned around the corner of the twisting staircase: I was free. I took the rest of the stairs two at a time, and opened the door to the first year boys' dorm, grinning as Jamie and Louis looked up from their spot over James's too-packed trunk. "So are you trying to pack your bed in there...?" I asked, and James scowled while Louis grinned.

"I know, he's just smushed everything in there." Louis said, glancing at James.

"You could continue to be mean--or you could help." James said grimly, and he tried to push down the top again: it went down, pushing down some of the assorted items within before .

"If I stand on it..." Louis's voice drifted off.

"We've already tried that." James said tiredly. "It's like two inches away from--Sera, what're you doing?" James demanded.

"I seem to remember us studying magic here." I said in a distant voice, smiling faintly at the boys as I crossed between them. I grabbed James's wand and tapped the trunk, and the items within blurred as they quickly moved to their appointed places until it was completely organized. And then the trunk spat out two shirts at James (they landed and draped themselves over his head) and snapped shut, then the lock clicked. I grinned at James, laughing shortly.

"These are mine!" Louis cried, snatching the shirts from Jamie, and clutching them accusatorily. "I've been looking for these everywhere--you have like _ten shirts_ why'd you steal mine?" Louis demanded, scowling at his cousin before he turned his back on us to stuff them in his trunk.

"No clean clothes." James confirmed.

"You know the _house elves _clean clothes. Not us." Louis clarified, turning to look back at James and keeping his words slow, as if he was talking to someone who was exceedingly stupid. "You just have to leave them on your bed."

"Too lazy." James confirmed in the same who-cares voice, and Louis blinked before he looked at me. I struggled to hide my smile, looking at Louis expectantly

"Why are we friends with him again?" He demanded.

"You two are cousins, and I liked you. And stuff just escalated from there." I shrugged.

"Shut up." Jamie ordered.

"No, thank you?" I asked, preteneding to look offended, and Jamie grinned at me, genuinely, which was always James's, and I melted right where I stood.

What the hell?

I smiled weakly back, then tore my gaze from Jamie's, panic seizing me: why had that happened? James and I had grinned at each other twelve million times in the past few months. Why had that particular grin made me do that? "I'll help you carry your stuff downstairs." I forced out, passing Jamie and tapping his trunk with his wand (which I'd just realized I was still holding), and having it follow me. James shot me a weird look--what was wrong with me?--and I kept going past him. I couldn't stop, couldn't think about what that meant.

Ten minutes later, we were standing in the Great Hall, getting ready to say goodbye as everyone lined up so they could walk down to the train. Louis, Jamie and I stood awkwardly off to the side of the line, and, worse than the awkwardness, was that I had a lump in my throat and my eyes were stinging. "You guys better write." I grumbled softly, looking up at the boys seriously, and Louis nodded earnestly while James just watched me, nodding once, very solemnly. "And floo call me. I'm staying in my dorm and stuff..."

"Don't be stupid, of course." James muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, and I swallowed once against the lump in my throat. Louis was looking increasingly alarmed, and I just sniffed before I threw my arms around Jamie, squeezing my eyes shut as I pressed my face into his shoulder.

"I'm gonna _miss_ you." I admitted softly, and he chuckled, pressing his face into my hair.

"That's 'cause I rock." Jamie murmured, his mouth beside my ear, and I laughed wetly, hugging him tighter still. "But I'll miss you too, Sera. And you better write back." He sighed softly, and I smiled shakily, lifting my face to rest my chin on his shoulder. "Kenya's gonna be hell. I'll probably murder Albus before we get back."

"Then you can't come back at the end of break." I told him as I pulled away, grinning as much as I could force one as the line shortened enough that the boys should have been getting on line. I swallowed before I pulled Louis into a similarly tight but less emotion-fraught hug, and pulled away just a moment later. Louis sighed quietly.

"We should be going..." He murmured regretfully.

"Go, go," I said with a forced, faint smile. "Have fun." I watched them get on line, then watched Longbottom check their names off on the list. Jamie glanced back, waving a little, and I waved a little back, taking a few deep breaths as the last group was led down to the train by Professor Picoult, and James and Louis disappeared from sight.

Spring Break was going to be hell.

-----

A/N:

Hey Guys,

brief update: chapter name change. these are song names, i did not come up with them myself, i own nothing but my computers and a house that seems to have an endless supply of people. :] that, beeteedubs, is my blanket disclaimer, as I realize I've neglected to use one thusfar.

xoxo


	23. Walking Disaster

Chapter 23

_March 20_

_Dear James, _

_How has it only been a day since break let out? This sucks, I miss you, and Hogwarts is creepy without people in it. It's just big and dark and the portraits are always talking. And Wes is spending most of his time moping because Selma's not here. It's driving me crazy—you know he lay in bed for like half an hour yesterday staring at her picture?_

_Longbottom's being nice, I suppose, but he's bored too—he's married, you know? And he's got twins who are super cute: they came to Hogwarts for the holidays and are staying in his suite and he and Mrs. Longbottom let me visit with them. And the Headmistress has a sister! And her sister is—get ready for this, because when I realized this, I had something akin to a panic attack—Neil's Mum. Yep. That means Neil's aunt is the Headmistress. I died of shock. But Neil didn't come because he's hanging out with his dad. His parents are separated and stuff._

_How's Kenya?_

_Love, Sera_

_----_

_March 21_

_Dear Louis, _

_I forget if you're with James's family over break or not, but since I don't know, I thought I'd write you both separately… if it turns out you are, though, please tell me, because my hand's going to get tired really fast._

_So it's only been a day since you and Jamie left…and I'm already counting the days to the end of break. I mean, the food's gotten better, and there's no Gallagher or anyone, which is nice, but still. I miss you guys._

_Are you in France or England or Kenya or what?_

_Love, Sera_

_---_

_March 22_

_Dear Sera, _

_I miss you too. This does suck. And I'm officially demanding that you come on all vacations with my family from now on—because this vacation sucks. Albus has a cold and Lily's jetlagged and my parents are in the _worst_ moods. They ask about you a lot._

_I know that Professor Longbottom's got a family—remember, he and Dad are friends? Your dad and my dad and Longbottom and Mr. Thomas and my uncle Ron were all roommates at school. Your dad fell out of touch or something, though—either way, I'd met all the kids of the above except for your dad's. Even Alec. Who shoved me in a fish pond the first time I met him._

_That's so weird about Neil, though. I guess that means Divya's actually related to Patil too, because aren't they cousins or something?_

_Are you free to floo-call tonight? I'm bored because we're stuck in the room because Mum's hysterical that Albus's cold is actually dragon pox (it's _not_ but she won't listen) and told the hotel manager who called the local hospital who sent over an idiot doctor who quarantined us. Yay._

_Get me the hell out of here._

_James_

_---_

_March 22_

_Dear James, _

_First, remember what I said about killing your family. You won't be able to come back after break. Second, I think Divya's Neil's cousin on his _other_ side. It's just a super small world. And third, of course I'm free to floo-chat tonight. It's not like I'm locked in a castle with FOUR HUNDRED MILLION fire places and nothing to do or anything._

_You're so smart._

_Xo, Sera_

_---_

_March 22_

_Dear Sera, _

_Shut up. At least I didn't blow off my vindictive potions partner's eyebrows in class._

_And I can't do it tonight--is two days from now good? Al might be cleared by then._

_James_

_---_

_March 24_

_Dear James,_

_Someone's cranky._

_And I'll floo-chat whenever. Just hit me with a good time. It's not like I've got anything better to do._

_Love, Sera_

_---_

_March 25_

_Dear Sera,_

_I'm locked in a room with a tantrum-happy eight-year-old, a sniffling ten-year-old, a pissed off ex-Chaser, and a helpless and worried Boy-turned-Man-who-Lived._

_I get to be cranky._

_Also, Louis told me he couldn't write you because his grandmother's kind of crazy. She wants him to talk/write/breathe French and he doesn't have any idea how to write a lot of French and you can't _read_ French, we don't think. And he had to sneak in a floo call to me to even get me that message. Also, I may or may not be able to floo-call you—it would have to be tomorrow afternoon (my time), though. It depends whether this dolt of a doctor has decided that Albus has Dragon Pox or not. If so, I won't be able to call you. But, the good news is, if that happens, you'll know how I am anyway because I will be arrested for killing Albus for contracting the most contagious disease EVER._

_Miss you, James_

"Sera?" Wes asked uncertainly, and I opened my eyes to a squint to look up at him tiredly: I'd been asleep. Except I was in the common room. Why was I asleep in the common room? I sat up a little, raking some of my messy hair back from my face, and Wes raised his eyebrows. "Why're you sleeping in here, kiddo?" He asked gently.

"I..." Then I remembered. "I was going to floo-chat Jamie, but I don't think it worked out." I shrugged. "If he could have called me he would have but Albus might have Dragon Pox and he didn't want me to get sick or something." I shrugged.

"Have you been out here all night?" He asked. I shook my head hurriedly, and he nodded once, raising his eyebrows and pressing his lips together. "Alright," He said, rubbing the back of his head, and I stood up, stretching my arms above my head tiredly, before I dropped them back to my sides limply. "Longbottom wants to see us." Wes said after a moment. I frowned, noticing suddenly that he was wearing a button-up shirt and dark jeans and a sweater. "He told me to dress nice." Wes elaborated as I raised my eyebrows.

"Why?" I questioned.

"Dunno, but this is the nicest stuff I have." Wes muttered, glancing down at himself. "My good clothes were at the house." He let that settle in the silence, and I blinked.

"No, I meant why do we need to meet with Longbottom, stupid." I muttered, rolling my eyes.

"Oh. Well, I still don't know." Wes told me, shrugging. I nodded. "You should probably change, though, kiddo."

"You know you're only three years and a few months older than me, right?" I demanded as I walked towards the steps to the girls' dorm. "That's not enough to call me kiddo."

"Is too." Wes retorted, without explanation. I glared at him and he pointed up the stairs. "Go! We're supposed to be at Longbottom's by nine thirty. It's nine right now and I know how long it takes you to get ready--for anything."

"Aww, shush." I waved my hand at him, but obeyed.

Twenty five minutes later, we were standing awkwardly in front of Longbottom's door while Wes knocked: I tugged at the sleeves of my school uniform, a man-tailored shirt and plaid skirt that went to four inches above my knee, by school dictum. This seemed smaller, somehow.

"Stop fidgeting," Wes ordered.

"My shirt sleeves are a weird length." I complained, looking down at them, and Wes snorted.

"You grew, smarty pants." He retorted. "You're eleven, it was bound to happen."

"I need new shirts." I complained, then I tugged at the bottom of my skirt, trying to pull it down: it was currently a little short-seeming. "And new skirts--this is too small and that's a problem."

"Well..." Wes sounded uncertain now. "How d'we--Hello Professor Longbottom," He greeted out head of house dutifully as Longbottom opened his door.

"Good Morning." I threw in with a brief smile, and Professor Longbottom just waved us inside, looking solemn. We sat down carefully in the chairs in front of his desk, and I pulled at my skirt again, willing it to get longer, somehow. I was magical, wasn't I? There had to be a spell for this.

"I called you here this morning because your grandmother called me last night." Professor Longbottom said bluntly as he circled his desk to stand behind it, resting his fingertips on the wooden surface to look at us solemnly. "She'd like to visit you within Hogwarts to get more of a feel for you two are, as people." Longbottom murmured, and I bit my lip, a small grin blooming on my face. Our grandmother wanted to get know us--she couldn't be _that_ bad. She'd been scared during the Wizarding Wars, Dad had said--a coward. But you could still be a good grandmother and a coward. I didn't need her to save me from whoever was trying to kill Wes and me--I just needed a place to go over the holidays.

"Oh." Wes said after a second. He paused, frowning. "She's..." He paused, glancing at me. "Our grandmother is coming to the castle to have tea." He clarified, and Longbottom nodded. "With us." He paused once more, before he leaned foward a little, resting his elbows on his knees and grasping his hands together. "Aren't we not allowed to see either Dean and Monica or Dad's Mum?"

"Only off grounds." Longbottom murmured, looking distressed. "She has permission."

"This is good, right?" I asked after a moment, smiling hopefully as I looked at Wes. My big brother may have been obnoxious, sometimes, but I trusted him to tell me the truth about this.

"She's not..." Wes sighed, turning to face me seriously. "The wizarding wars, you know 'em, right, Ser?" I nodded once. "Dad's Mum was on the wrong side." Wes explained quietly. "She wanted James's dad to lose and Voldemort to win. She convinced Dad to fight a little bit Mr. Potter--not a lot, but still. She did a lot of stuff wrong."

"Dad said it was because she was a coward." I murmured, biting my lip, and Wes nodded. "But..." I swallowed. "I mean, I don't need a war hero for a guardian. Just... somewhere to spend break. We can't exactly be picky, Wes." Wes froze, then he sat back in his chair heavily, closing his eyes for a minute and massaging his temples.

"Sera, kiddo," Wes said softly after a second, opening his eyes to look at me with as much emotion as I'd ever seen him possess. "You need a guardian because _I_ need a guardian. We're not old enough or mature enough for this stuff, SerBear. I'm willing to take care of you for as long as is necessary, but I'd rather have a real adult to take care of us than just a place to go over break."

"I don't need taking care of." I said quietly. "I just need somewhere to go." Wes sighed heavily, then pressed his lips together, thinking something over.

"We'll talk later." He decided softly. He looked back at Longbottom, who was looking extremely concerned. "What time's she getting here?" He asked quietly, his gaze level, and Longbottom blinked, then glanced at a clock on the wall.

"In a few minutes." Longbottom murmured. I grinned a little. I was excited.

---

Twenty minutes later, I stood nervously in the corner of Longbottom's office, my eyes wide and focused in on his fireplace, praying that a green fire was about to flare up and spit out my paternal grandmother. Wes was standing beside me, having long since risen to his feet, and on the other side of the room, Longbottom was sitting behind his desk, alarmingly calm as he wrote a letter or something—I didn't care enough to check. "What if she hates us?" I whispered to Wes, hating the weak feeling forming a tight not behind my breast bone, making me want to cry. "She hates Dad. And Mum." I swallowed. "She should hate us. It would make perfect sense."

"Sera, she won't hate you." Wes assurred me quietly. "And if she does, it won't matter, because we'll never have to see her again and Dean will get custody of us and we'll live happily ever after annoying the hell out of Alec." He finished the sentence as a green fire roared and my grandmother, somehow soot-less, stepped out of the fire place.

She was about five eleven, one of the women I'd ever seen, with graying strawberry blond hair that was back in a severe-looking bun. She was kind of beautiful, in the way that silent-movie stars were—Dad had shown us a couple in his effort to keep us extremely muggle-friendly. She had Dad's and Wes' eyes—a kind of hazel—and the edges of her thin lips were turned down in a way that made me back up a half step into the stone wall behind me and scooch closer to Wes by an inch, all out of reflex.

Professor Longbottom stood up and smiled pleasantly, holding out a hand for her to shake, and she just nodded at him, giving his extended hand a disdainful look: I felt ice hit my veins. This woman hated Professor Longbottom.

Maybe she was just nervous about meeting one of Dad's friends, when Dad had stopped talking to her so long ago.

She turned her piercing gaze to Wes and me, and I swallowed as I resisted the urge to hug Wes and close my eyes against the woman. How could she have raised Dad? How could anyone this _cold_ have had anything to do with our loud, funny, father?

"Wesley, how nice to meet you." My grandmother (what did we call her? _Grandma_? This woman was _not_ a grandma type) said in a sour tone, looking over Wes. "And—child, why are you hiding behind your brother?" She demanded of me loudly, and I stepped out from where I'd stepped behind Wes without realizing, blushing as I smiled shakily at her. Wes put his hand on my back protectively, his hawk-like gaze now on my grandmother accusitorily. I tucked a few strands of hair behind my ear. "Straighten up." She barked at me, and I jumped at the order but obeyed. She stared at me for a moment, her hazel eyes so much darker-seeming than Wes' or Dad's, and I felt sick to my stomach for a moment--no, no, no she couldn't be our grandmother--before she nodded, as if satisfied. "That'll do." She said quietly. "You are Serafina, yes?" I nodded once, biting my lip. "You should always speak when addressing your elders." She said in a steely voice, glaring full-out now. I felt my face heat up with humiliation.

"Sorry." I muttered, feeling horribly, horribly disappointed and having the emotion build a lump in my throat. "And yes, I am Serafina." The woman was staring down at me for a long moment, and I took a deep breath through my nose, praying I wasn't about to burst into tears in front of this woman.

Why couldn't we get a normal grandmother?

James had a grandmother who scared me a little bit but who was actually the best person on earth. She loved all of her grandchildren and she'd given me a sweater with an S on it that had been really scratchy and way warmer than I'd ever need it to be—but at least she obviously loved everyone, and I'd been super touched about how sweet she'd been. She was blushing unhappily.

Mine was just scary. Period.

My grandmother turned back to Professor Longbottom, who was watching this entire ordeal with a frown. "I understand you've been a friend of my son. Much like that Dean boy that Seamus was friends with when he was at Hogwarts." Her voice was icy—she didn't approve of Longbottom, it was obvious. And if Dean was 'that Dean boy that Seamus was friends with' and not someone she'd known well, she'd had to have been a bad mother. No one could be like that--not when Dad and Dean were brothers in the truest sense of the word. You don't miss something like that. "And that you're my grandchildren's guardian until I get custody."

"Until the custodial hearing." Professor Longbottom amended with a light scowl for the woman. "And I'm a friend of Seamus', though we've never been as close as Seamus and Dean." He met my grandmother's gaze evenly. "Dean and Monica are like Wes and Sera's second parents, whereas I hadn't met them before their time at Hogwarts."

"Did you ever meet my daughter-in-law?" My grandmother asked him, her voice filled with pressing curiosity, before her gaze flicked back to Wes and me for a moment, and I almost flinched at her voice. I glanced back and up at Wes, and my brother flashed me a comforting smile, pulling me back against him tightly. I leaned my head against him miserably. I hated this.

"I didn't have the pleasure." Longbottom admitted quietly.

"Neither did I." My grandmother murmured, pursing her lips. "As I understand it, few people did." She pursed her lips, looking towards Wes and I again, and I swallowed nervously, straightening up once more. "What's your mother like?" She demanded, her eyes narrowing in on me, and I blinked, before taking a deep breath. She was just a cranky old woman.

"What d'you want to know?" I asked softly, my voice not as strong as I wanted it to be, and the woman raised her eyebrows for a moment, before she smiled a little, approvingly, and hope surged within me: maybe she wasn't this awful. Maybe she was at least tolerable, as a human being.

"Was her blood pure?" She asked me curiously. I shifted uncomfortably, shocked by the overtness of her question. I glanced uncertainly up at Wes, who was just watching her, his eyes wide. I looked back to her.

"I--" I swallowed, before I straightened up. "I don't--" I stopped again. What I wanted to say--_I don't know and I don't care_--wouldn't come out. And I didn't know why--especially because it was true.

"Stop stuttering, child." She ordered out, and somehow, that took away any inhibitions I might have had.

"I have no idea whether Mum was pureblood or muggleborn." I said, a little tremulously. "She told us she was muggleborn but--" I shrugged unwillingly, and Wes smiled tightly at our grandmother. "But we don't know." My grandmother nodded, and I swallowed, forcing myself to say the next words even though they scared me. "It wouldn't matter, though." They were true, and I was proud to say them, but I still shrank back into my brother a little. "We don't care what her bloodstatus is. We just want her back." I said quietly, and I held my breath for the reaction. The woman's small smile dropped instantaneously, her face twisting into a hateful glare, and Wes looped an arm around my shoulders to pull me back further, so he was hugging me with only the one arm, his gaze firmly on our grandmother. He was worried she would hurt me--I could see it by the way he'd kind of twisted so he was a little bit between Dad's Mum and myself, and any kindness in the way he looked upon my grandmother had disappeared immediately.

There was a tense silence in the room before she spoke, pratically shaking with her anger. "I will not _tolerate_ insolence, Serafina." Her voice was bitter and angry, and the lump in my throat built. "Even from Seamus's daughter." She hissed at me, and I felt tears burn in my eyes. "Especially--_especially_--from an eleven-year-old near-mudblood who has _no idea_ what she is _talking_ about." My grandmother's voice was worse than I ever could have imagined it, and I stared at her for a long moment before I closed my eyes, turning my face to press it into Wes's shirt. He put a hand on the back of my head, smoothing down my hair comfortingly, but I sobbed despite my efforts to smother it. Wes rubbed my back gently, and I felt him shift a little: I was pretty sure he was looking at our head of house for instructions.

"Mrs. Finnigan, I appreciate your opinions but Sera does not share them and as her legal guardian and a friend of her father's and godfather's, I've got to ask that you not address either Wes or Sera that way." Professor Longbottom said in a steely voice, but it softened as he contined: "Wes, will you take Sera outside?" Professor Longbottom asked, and Wes turned instantly so he was between me and my grandmother, cutting off all contact. Wes released me to let me walk outside, and I stumbled forward. I tore open Longbottom's door and walked outside, and Wes followed, slamming the door shut quickly behind him before he turned to me, his gaze following me as I crossed to the wall of windows facing Longbottom's office. Tears bubbled over, and I turned to face Wes miserably.

"She's _awful_," I managed to squeak out past the lump in my throat. Wes crossed to me and hugged me tightly: I sobbed into his shirt. "She's awful and elitist and worse than Brian and Greg and what is _wrong_ with her? Who--" I sobbed again, my words cutting off for a moment. "Why can't we just--" Wes smoothed down my hair, leaning down a little, as a sob cut off my words.

"Shh, Sera, sweetheart, it's okay--" He murmured to me. "I swear to God, we couldn't catch a break," Wes's voice fell several decibels so I could barely hear it, and I knew he wasn't talking to me. I just sobbed again, my shoulders shaking with the force of it, and Wes just rubbed my back gently. Wes pulled away, after a moment, to lift me onto the window ledge, smoothing my hair away from my face worriedly. "Sera, kiddo, I need you to take a few deep breaths," He murmured to me, and I just dropped my head, squeezing my eyes shut as the tears pouring down my face continued and my sobs melted into hiccups. "Shh," He murmured to me. "Sera, angel, I really think you should relax, take a couple of deep breaths. I don't want you hyperventilating or anything," I obeyed, taking a few shaky breaths, and Wes smiled a little at me, but not without trepidation. He stepped back a little to pull off his pull-over sweater, and he tugged it over my head: I slipped my arms in the much-too-big sleeves obediently. He smoothed down my hair again, almost distractedly, and I averted my gaze worriedly.

"I want Mum and Dad to come home." I murmured, not meeting Wes's gaze guiltily. "You're really nice. But I want Mum and Dad." I sniffed, wiping at my eyes with the sleeve of Wes's sweater as I looked up at him. Wes pressed his lips together in a grimace, nodding easily.

"Me too, kid." He murmured to me, and I hiccupped. Wes reached out to give me shoulder a comforting squeeze.

We sat there in silence for a little bit, and Wes shifted to sit beside me, and I sniffed again as I kicked my feet back and forth, looking down at the ground. "Can I call James?" I asked softly.

"Doesn't Albus have dragon pox?" Wes asked quietly.

"I'll risk it." I muttered.

"I won't." Wes retorted, looking at me firmly, and I turned to him, frowning a little but giving him a moment. "I'm not going to have sick baby sister on my list of worries. You having pneumonia earlier this year was hard enough. I'm not letting you get Dragon Pox."

"Not really a _choice_, per se." I pointed out.

"Regardless, I'm not allowing you to be in a situation where contracting Dragon Pox is something that can happen." Wes reinforced. "I'm not here to antagonize you, kiddo. I just don't want you sick."

"But that's my choice," I murmured.

"We may be parentless but I'm your big brother and we've still got legal guardians and godparents." He said, raising his eyebrows. "Longbottom and Patil techincally beat Dean and Monica in terms of who we have to listen to. But I beat everyone." He grinned, and I stuck my tongue out at him, but didn't smile: I couldn't quite muster one, yet. "But if you really need to talk to James, I'll talk to Teddy about whether the littlest Potter is contagious."

"James isn't the littlest Potter," I muttered. "Lily's littlest."

"Whatever, you know who I'm talking about." Wes retorted, and Longbottom left his office carefully, closing the door behind him before he turned to face us. I instinctively edged towards my big brother, and Longbottom sighed quietly, beckoning us forward. I stood up carefully, shifting from one foot to another.

"First off--Serafina, sweetheart, are you alright?" Professor Longbottom asked me quietly, looking at me worriedly, and I nodded, crossing my arms defensively. "Are you sure?" He asked me, and I sniffed.

"Yeah," I mumbled uncomfortably.

"Alright--then we're going to the Ministry of Magic," Longbottom said tiredly, as he ran a hand through his hair. "We're going to go talk to the Minister." He shook his head, sighing heavily. "You guys shouldn't be here." He sighed, gesturing back to his office. "Let's go."

---

Half an hour later found Wes and I in the Auror Office of the Ministry of Magic, standing awkwardly at the edge of the room while Longbottom tried to locate Mr. Weasley, Louis and Jamie's uncle, who was apparently second-in-command in terms of the Aurors. He was also their cousins', Rose and Hugo, father. I'd met him over Christmas Break, and I could sort of remember him, through the haze of red hair and freckles that dominated the family.

The auror office was a very large room with a lot of different desks, separated by small, four-feet-high glass windows, and an entire wall of fireplaces, so that people could get in and out with ease. Professor Longbottom had apparently once been an auror, because he'd greeted _every single person_ we'd seen here. It was odd seeing him being social, when so often, I mostly saw him in the context of Hogwarts.

Mr. Weasley spotted me first, though, smiling a little at me as he wandered over. "Sera?" He asked me as he approached, and I smiled at him, rising to my feet respectfully.

"Hi Mr. Weasley--Professor Longbottom's looking for you," I said pleasantly enough.

"Neville's here?" He asked, twisting to glance behind him, then he shrugged, evidently deciding he didn't care. "Ah, well, he'll find me. Kind of hard to miss." He grinned, running a hand through his scarlet hair, and I grinned back at him: I liked James and Louis's uncle. James's dad was kind of off-putting--he was oddly serious sometimes, but I thought he was nice enough, I supposed--and Louis's dad was a lot older than my dad--he'd been out of Hogwarts by the time Dad started, for a year at least. I also liked him because after Dean, he'd apparently been the friendliest with my dad. "So what's brought you and your..." His voice drifted off as his gaze flicked to my brother. "Bloody hell..." He murmured, looking a little shell-shocked as he met my brother's gaze. "You look like Seamus," He said in a kind of shocked voice, and I saw a spark of happiness on Wes's face.

"Well, yes, Ron, I've heard that happens with parents and their children," Professor Longbottom said sarcastically as he walked up, and Mr. Weasley wheeled around to grin at Professor Longbottom, pulling him into a brief hug.

"Neville, mate!" Mr. Weasley said with a grin as he released him. "How's Hannah? And the twins?"

"They're great," Professor Longbottom said with a grin. "How's Rosie and Hugo? And Mione? She still loving her job?" He asked pleasedly, but he shook his head after a minute. "I'm not here socially, though," He admitted tiredly, gesturing to Wes and I. Professor Longbottom grabbed Mr. Weasley's arm and pulled him to the side a little. "Seamus's Mum dropped by Hogwarts." He explained quickly, and I felt my smile fall from my face as Wes stood beside me, straightening up and crossing his arms intimidatingly across his chest. Mr. Weasley's jaw dropped.

"How--people can't just walk into Hogwarts..." He muttered, frowning. "That's not how that works."

"Grandparents of children can visit said children at the school in the even that the parents are incapacitated--not dead, but otherwise occupied." Professor Longbottom's anguish was audible, and Mr. Weasley raised his eyebrows, glancing at us.

"Even if the grandparent is Mrs. Finnigan?" Mr. Weasley questioned, and Wes smirked, glancing apprciatively at him.

"Ron--how _old_ are you?" Longbottom demanded skeptically, before shaking his head once. "Nevermind--these kids can't stay at Hogwarts, it's not a good environment without other kids." Longbottom shook his head regretfully. "They should stay with Bill or Harry."

"Bill's in France with Fleur's Mum and sister and their various veela children." Mr. Weasley admitted quietly: I frowned--did this mean Louis was part veela? "And Harry's in Kenya, I haven't had the chance to touch base with him, been so busy keeping _these_ shenanigans running..." Mr. Weasley's voice drifted off as he waved a hand to gesture that the entire room was filled with "shenanigans".

"Mr. Potter might have been out of touch because Albus might have dragon pox." I offered awkwardly when they fell silent. Both men glanced towards me. "I know he was getting tested or something--Jamie's been quarantined with Lils and Mr. and Mrs. Potter and Albus in their hotel room." Mr. Weasley nodded a little, seemingly waiting for more, so I continued: "I only know because I've been writing Jamie." I murmured, blushing a little as my gaze dropped: Wes nudged me. "He told me--we were supposed to floo-call this morning but we didn't--I guess it wasn't possible or something, I don't really know." I shrugged.

"I'll give 'im a call, but he should be checking in pretty soon--and here is the man himself." Mr. Weasley said as Mr. Potter flooed into a fireplace on the opposite wall. Mr. Weasley stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out a high-pitched whistle: I winced, ducking against Wes, who rubbed my shoulder, and Mr. Potter shot Mr. Weasley an irritated look from the other side of the room. Mr. Potter began to approach us, occasionally patting someone's shoulder or kissing a woman on the cheek; he grinned at someone across the room, waving vaguely to them before he reached our little group, looking expectantly at Mr. Weasley--Wes and I were oddly positioned behind so that we weren't really visible, from where Mr. Potter had approached.

"Ron, I have been in quarantine for the last few _days_ with my wife and children and had a couple of sleepness nights so this is just _so not _the time to engage me on some--Sera." Mr. Potter began, shaking his head menacingly at his best friend, but he stopped on my name, raising his eyebrows as he realized that Wes and I were there. "And Wesley, hello," He said slowly, glancing up at Longbottom for a moment before he looked back at us, speaking as he watched us. "Neville?"

"Seamus's Mum showed up." He muttered to Mr. Potter, as if this was self-explanitory, who raised his eyebrows. He waited for a moment, before he sighed heavily, glancing at us. He grabbed Longbottom's arm and dragged him away from us, but only a few feet: I wondered if he thought he was out of earshot. Mr. Weasley followed easily.

"Oh, hell." Mr. Potter murmured, pushing some of his black hair out of his face. "What happened?" Mr. Potter pressed quietly, looking worried.

"She asked whether their mum's blood was pure," Longbottom hissed, looking suddenly, incredibly angry. "What kind of woman _does_ that to children who's parents are missing?" He demanded under his breath, and my eyes widened as I glanced up at Wes: we weren't supposed to be hearing this, but we were. "What if she gets _custody_, Harry?"

"Did Wes and Sera answer?" Mr. Potter asked, continuing forward with the story instead of trying to press the crisis of custody we were in the middle of.

"Sera said she didn't know and it wouldn't matter anyway." Neville murmured under his breath, looking around nervously, and Mr. Potter inhaled sharply. "And Mrs. Finnigan didn't take that well."

"She didn't..." Mr. Weasley's voice drifted off, and I snuck a look at his expression: he was horrified. "She didn't hurt them, or anything?" He sounded simultaneously awkward and concerned, and I swallowed my nervousness, sinking down on the bench I'd been sitting on before Mr. Weasley had come over.

"Not physically," Longbottom acknowledged. "But Mrs. Finnigan called her a mudblood." He finished quietly, and Wes sank down beside me, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion before he lifted his head to look at me: we were both exhausted, somehow. It was only around ten AM.

"Oh, Merlin," Mr. Weasley murmured, crossing his arms and shifting a little. "That's..." He fell silent. "Sera and Wes are her grandchildren." He murmured. "Doesn't that make her blood dirty by saying theirs is?" He sounded uncertain.

"Well, yes," Longbottom murmured. "But she rejected her husband only a few months after Battle of Hogwarts. And disowned Seamus when he eloped--I doubt they even got to the part of the conversation that had involved his new 'wife's' bloodlines." Longbottom sighed.

"This is the screwiest situation." Mr. Weasley muttered displeasedly.

"Trust me, I know." Longbottom murmured, and I glanced out at the Aurors who were working busily at their desks, pretending not to hear as they continued. "Anyway, the point is, they need a place to stay where Mrs. Finnigan can't immediately enter." Professor Longbottom explained. "And they can't stay with Dean because then it would seem like I had a preference in terms of the custody trial and I'm supposed to be an untainted opinion or something so I can testify--" Longbottom sounded kind of exasperated, but he cut himself off, taking a deep, cleansing breath. "So I figured you or Bill--Victoire and Wes are pretty close in age and Teddy's Wes's quidditch captain, and obviously there's Louis or James for Sera." Longbottom shrugged.

"I was hoping Bill would bring at least Sera with him..." Mr. Potter murmured, rubbing his temples. "Wes made his own travel arrangements over Christmas Break so I just assumed that he'd figure something out for this break and Sera would go with Louis." He sighed, glancing over at us before he looked at Mr. Weasley tiredly. "This is so reminiscent of..." He shrugged. "Us."

"Trust me, I know. When James told ushe was having Sera over for the Holidays, Hermione spent days cooing over how cute it was." Mr. Weasley murmured.

"I'll take them," Mr. Potter murmured heaving a heavy sigh. "Let me call Gin, I s'pose--I wouldn't want to spring this on her, you know?" He sighed. "I'll do that--Neville will you pack up their things and just send them over--I've got to floo them home with me or fill out all those permissions for going into Hogwarts." Mr. Potter pushed his hair out of his face, coming back over to Wes and me with a tight smile. Wes and I rose to our feet again as Longbottom and Mr. Weasley followed, both of them watching us with sympathetic smiles, and Wes's arm slipped around my shoulders protectively. "Sounds like a lot's gone on today." He said sympathetically. "You guys okay?" Mr. Potter asked us quietly. Wes's arm dropped from around my shoulders, and I tucked a few strands of hair behind my shoulder uncertainly, glancing up at him nervously.

"We'll manage." Wes murmured, and I glanced up at Wes, before straightening up and nodding once. If Wes could fake this, so could I.

But it was faking it. Because my parents were missing and we were currently being shuffled around like a freaking hockey puck. And I hated my grandmother because something was obviously pretty wrong with her for her to hate Wes and me and I _really_ wanted her to love us. I wanted a whole bunch of crap and in the last few hours it'd all gone away in spite of that.

Except for Jamie. I got to see _him_.

"We're fine." I said, forcing a weak smile at the adults in front of me.

"You're going to be coming home with me for the rest of the holiday," Mr. Potter said with a hopeful smile. "I hope that's okay with you--"

"Yes!" I squeaked out. "Thank you!" Mr. Potter laughed quietly, waving me off. Even Mr. Stoic (Wes) grinned down at me a little, before he shook Mr. Potter's hand.

"Thanks, Mr. Potter." He said quietly. "I hate to interrupt your vacation--aren't you staying in Kenya?" He asked cautiously.

"Albus was cleared of Dragon Pox but he still has a bug, and the hotel agreed to refund the rest of our stay as long as we went home and didn't infect the rest of the hotel." Mr. Potter explained quietly, watching Wes a little oddly. "And it's not an interruption. We're always pleased to have you over." He grinned. "Teddy's getting bored of trying to play quidditch by himself," He glanced at me, "And James will be pleased you're coming." There was a moment of silence as everyone digested this, and then a blush creeped up my neck to taint my cheeks, and Wes chuckled, puling me against him in a one-armed hug. "Alright, well, you guys sit down--I need to handle a couple of things here and then we'll head home." Mr. Potter said happily.

"Thank you." I murmured, and Wes sank back down on the bench as I bounced up on my toes then back down nervously. Mr. Potter smiled tightly and nodded at us before he turned and went back out to the cubicles to talk to people, and Mr. Weasley raised a hand in farewell, turning back to follow Mr. Potter. Professor Longbottom sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "Sera, Wes, I'll see you at the end of break barring any problems." Professor Longbototm said. I grinned at him.

"Thanks for staying with us at Hogwarts..." I said awkwardly.

"No problem, sweetheart." He grinned. "Take care, guys." He nodded at us, then turned to walk towards the floo-networks. I looked back at Wes, grinning a little. He grinned back at me.

"This is good." I murmured excitedly. Spring Break couldn't totally suck, not if I was with the Potters

---

Another half hour passed before we were standing in the living room of the Potters', having just stepped out of the fireplace. Mrs. Potter stood up from her place in an armchair, coming forward to hug me tightly, and I hugged her back, grinning at how much Mr. and Mrs. Potter felt like _family_ now. "Sera, Wes, so nice to see you again." She said pleasantly. She pulled back to turn to Wes and grabbed Wes in a hug, shocking him a little. He hugged her back hesitantly, pulling away as soon as was polite, and Mrs. Potter grinned at us both.

"Thank you so much for having us, Mrs. Potter." Wes said with a polite smile, and then he nudged me: I looked up at him, then glanced to Mrs. Potter.

"Thank you." I echoed, and Mrs. Potter's grin seemed to grow a little.

"You're so polite!" She cooed, looking first at me and then at her husband. "No wonder Jamie's getting so polite." She grinned at us again, then turned in the general direction of their main foyer, where the staircase was: "_James! Sera's here!"_ She shouted, and I heard a minor commotion upstairs. Suddenly, a red-haired blur slammed into me, and I grinned, catching Lily and hugging her tightly.

"Sera Sera Sera, Mummy _told_ me you were coming--" Lily chanted excitedly as she looked up at me. "Guess what--my arm healed!" She shoved her arm, which had been cut in Diagon Alley, towards me, and I felt my stomach turn over but I forced a smile, inspecting the red scar there.

"That's so great!" I said with a false grin.

"And you healed and Louis healed--I didn't get to see him but he swore he did." Lily told me informatively, but I'd tuned out: James had entered the room, and was currently grinning hugely at me. I unwound Lily's arms from around me to rocket towards James and hugged him tightly. The Potters were as close as I could get to home, these days.


	24. Trap Doors

Chapter 24

"All of you! C'mon inside! We've got visitors!" Mrs. Potter called out from the backdoor of the house, and I frowned, exchanging looks with James. "Put on your clothes and Teddy, be a dear and dry everyone off!"

It'd been four days since we'd been dropped off at the Potters, and it'd been great so far: Selma had visited yesterday, and that had put Wes in the best mood _ever_; Albus had been feeling better, which had put the Potter adults in better moods; and Jamie and I had been having the best time ever. We'd walked into town the day before and just walked around and it'd been so much fun.

"Who's here?" Teddy called back, pushing himself up on the side of the pool, and I swam to the stairs, stepping up them and shivering a little bit. Mrs. Potter didn't respond, though, just shutting the door behind her. Teddy straightened up, stretching his arms above his head before he looked at James, Lily and me confusedly. "That was weird." He muttered, and James just shrugged, following me up the stairs.

"I'm gonna tell Mummy you called her _weird_," Lily said with an evil grin, and I walked over to the chair with my shorts and t-shirt on it, and I grabbed it and put it on, then James's sweatshirt.

"Sera—c'mon." James groaned as he realized the theft, pointedly ignoring Lily. The little redhead bounced a little, waiting for a response, and when she didn't, her face dropped disappointedly. "You're like a sweatshirt klepto or something." He slipped his arms into his t-shirt sleeves first, then pulled it on over his head, shaking his hair back into it's normal place before he sighed heavily. "Come on."

"I'm cold." I whined, pouting at Jamie, who raised his eyebrows.

"What d'you think _I_ am?" he demanded.

"Warm." I said with a grin, and Teddy came up beside me and tapped my shoulder with his wand. My hair sizzled a little, but I was suddenly dry, and I reached up automatically to pull my hair into a ponytail, wrapping a hair tie around it: fast-drying spells could make hair really frizzy.

"Oy, kid, c'mere." Teddy ordered James, grabbing his shirt sleeve and tugging him closer to tap him with his wand: James pulled a face as a wave of steam came off him, but it worked, and I grinned at him.

"I want my sweatshirt!" Jamie whined. I rolled my eyes.

"You sound like Lily." Teddy muttered as he passed us, and James's cheeks turned red as I giggled at him.

"Fine, keep it." James muttered, turning towards the house and crossing his arms across his chest. I snorted in laughter then ran forward a few steps to catch up with him, grinning. I slung my arm around his neck.

_"Jamie_," I begged. "Don't be mad." I smiled hopefully at him. "I just get cold and then my amazing best friends are there with their super warm sweatshirts and I know I borrow yours more than Louis's but that's an unreasonable statistic because I'm currently living with you and I haven't seen Louis in a while so I can't have stolen _his_ things—" I stopped as I saw Dean's familiar head bob past the window, and I grinned, releasing James and sprinting forward, tearing open the back door to come face to face with Dean, Monica and Alec in the Potters' kitchen.

"Dean!" I squeaked out, jumping out to hug him tightly, and he laughed, spinning me around and kissing the side of my head as he lifted me off the ground.

"Hi Angel," He said happily. "How're you holding up?" He asked me as he put me down, holding me at arms' length, and I shrugged, my grin fading a little.

"'M fine—Hi Monica!" I turned to my godmother, and she pulled me into a big hug, combing through my hair with her fingers. She pulled away after a moment, looking almost teary as she tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, peering at me worriedly.

"Sweetheart, I heard what your grandmother said to you and how you responded," She murmured. "I'm so proud of you, baby girl, d'you understand? That was the bravest thing you could have done." She told me intensely, and I smiled a little uncertainly at her. "Honest, Serafina, your parents would be so proud." I swallowed nervously, my eyes stinging a little: it was incredibly nice to hear this, but I didn't want to talk about my parents, or my grandmother.

"Mum—" Alec said uncomfortably beside her, rubbing the back of his head, and I pulled away gratefully from Monica, turning to face Alec. I hugged him tightly, squeezing him tighter than I'd squeezed his mother and father.

"Hey dork," I murmured, and he snorted, releasing me and shoving me a little with a good-natured grin.

"You're the dork. You didn't write." Alec accused.

"D'you have one of those special one-way owls? Hmm?" I demanded. Alec rolled his eyes, and put his arm around my shoulders. I leaned my head against him with a grin to Jamie.

"Where's Wes?" Dean asked curiously.

"Calling Selma." I said, and he nodded.

"Hello Mr. Thomas, Mrs. Thomas." Teddy said with a grin to my godparents, tucking his hands in his jeans' pockets, and I grinned gratefully at him. "Nice to see you again."

"Nice to see you too, Ted." Dean said happily, nodding at the seventh-year. "Nice to see you too, James. How's school going?"

"Really well," Jamie said with a grin, and I saw Mr. Potter, who was standing in the doorway, raise her eyebrows significantly at Dean. "I love Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration."

"Connelly and Rostov, nice," Dean said appreciatively, and I glanced at him, surprised that he knew their names. He looked back at me with a half-grin. "I've got you and Alec and Wes at Hogwarts. If I didn't know the teachers, that might be actually classified as child neglect." I smiled shyly, biting my lip a little. I liked that Dean categorized Wes and me with Alec. We were like his kids, as close as we could be without actually _being_.

"Teddy, Jamie, give the Thomases and Sera a moment alone, won't you?" Mr. Potter began, coming forward and putting a hand on James's head.

"No, no, it's fine, Harry—I'm just going to ask my _wonderful_ son and goddaughter to hop out to the car and get the boxes in the trunk." Dean said, turning to us with a manipulative sound to his voice. I glanced at Alec, who just sighed exaggeratedly. "Here're the keys."

"What's in the boxes?" I asked curiously. Dean's smile faded.

"Some stuff Harry needed for the investigation." He said quietly, and I swallowed, turning back towards the door, exiting the room first while Alec followed me.

"So what's been up with your boyfriend there, kiddo?" Alec asked with an evil grin as he caught up with me, bumping me with his elbow as we walked into the Potters' foyer and headed for the front door.

"He is _not my boyfriend_," I hissed at Alec, turning scarlet at the suggestion. "And d'you know specifically what is in the boxes?" I asked as we went out the front doors, and I closed the door behind us.

And then there was the rapid crackle of apparition.

"_Alec_!" I screamed, my panic automatic now as I reached out and grabbed my god-brother, tugging him back with me against the front doors of the Potters. The gunshot-like sound was enough to tip me off that we had to get the hell away--right now. Seven men appeared on the Potters' front lawn, their presence hidden from the street by the high hedge around the Potter estate.

Not again.

The men weren't in any particular formation, which was different from last time, but they were wearing the cloaks with the hoods again. I couldn't really see their faces, because of the way the sun was setting, so it had disappeared behind the house and thrown the front yard into shadow.

"Oh, shit," Alec muttered, and we had the same thought at the same time: we turned to the just-closed doors of the Potter house, slamming on the doorknobs, which were suddenly immobile, and when that didn't work, Alec hammered on the door. "Dad! Mum!"

"Miss Finnigan, hoping for a rescue." One of the men said wryly, and I felt adrenaline hit my system as I turned around slowly to face them. "This is pathetic."

"What d'you want?" Alec asked boldly, taking a step forward, and I grabbed his arm, tugging him backwards.

"Oh, Mr. Thomas," The man began, his tone sounding scarily manipulative. "We have no problems with the child of a Selwyn." I blinked, confused, while Alec and I exchanged looks. _What_? Monica's maiden name was Selwyn, but I didn't understand what that had to do with anything. "And usually we'd have no problem with a MacBride grandchild either—" The man laughed quietly, his darkened face turning to me, and my mind raced: MacBride, Selwyn. What was this jerk _talking about_? "But we can't let that flimsy blood-status-flippant little girl go. So if you'll just stand to the side a little, Alec—"

"Hell no." Alec protested, and the man raised his wand.

"_Crucio!"_ The word scared me to death, and Alec slid back a step.

_"Protego!" _I said frantically, slashing my wand through the air, and my spell slammed into his forcefully, and the shower of sparks that resulted made me flinch a little. "_Stupefy_!"

"_Sectusempra!"_ Another man said, and Alec shoved us both down so we were crouching: the spell crashed into the wall, above our heads, and I squeezed my eyes shut as brick bits showered down on us. "_Expluso_!" He ordered, and I screamed as the ground beneath us blew up, and Alec and I were flung into the air. I hit their front lawn with an oomph, the air knocking out of me, and I laid there for a moment, trying to suck in as much oxygen as possible before a hand closed on my upper arm, hauling me to my feet while I hiccupped and sobbed breath back into my lungs.

"Serafina Finnigan, _you_ are responsible for this destruction, I hope you're aware of that." My captor hissed in my ear, and I sobbed out, eying the Potters' front porch: while the house itself was unharmed, the brick patio had been blown up so that it was little more than dirt and little fires.

But more importantly, I got a better idea of what was going on, now.

The house had been somehow sealed off—the windows were undamaged by the blast but bricks had been shattered—and there was someone beating on the other side of the door. I saw movement in the upstairs windows, and the tell-tale flash of redhair that indicated that Lily and James and maybe even Teddy had been sent upstairs while these guys tried to _kill _us. Most importantly, though, Alec was lying—_and not moving _—on the other side of the yard.

"_Alec_!" I screamed, trying to tear out of the man's arms, the tears that had now bloomed in my eyes spilling over as I struggled against him. "_No_! _Alec_!" The man cursed under his breath, trying to keep a handle on me, but I was flipping out. I threw my weight back against him and then flew forward, breaking his hold, and I sprinted across the yard, dropping to my knees beside my godbrother. He was on his side so I turned him over, my frantic fingers pressing to the inside of his wrist. "Please be okay, please be okay," I chanted under my breath.

"_Stupefy!_" Someone shouted, and I realized I didn't have my wand. I flattened myself against the ground, squeezing my eyes shut as the spell whizzed past me, and it smacked into the hedge behind me, ripping a hole in it.

I sat up cautiously, my eyes scanning the yard for my wand or Alec's, both of which had been dropped in the explosion, and then I saw it, barely twenty feet from where Alec and I were on the grass: it was my wand.

I glanced at the men before I took off towards the wand, scrambling over there and falling a little bit on the way there, but I ignored the new cuts on my knees as my fingers closed around the wand. _"Protego!_" I shouted at the men, before I cautiously side-stepped back towards Alec.

"Very nice, Serafina, your dueling skills are very promising." The man said, but I heard the mocking tone in his voice, and I took the free moment to dart back to Alec. His chest rose and fell with a shallow breath, and I felt relief hit me: you couldn't breathe when you were dead.

There was a cut on Alec's forehead that had a lot of blood coming from it, but I tried not to panic—cuts on your head bled a lot, even when they were minor. "_Episkey_," I said, trying to put as much confidence as I could into the word, and the skin closed on the edges, shortening the cut by about an inch, and most of the bleeding stopped, and I allowed myself a relieved smile. "Alec, please wake up," I pled softly, and I glanced up, realizing the seven men were closing in on us. My heart fluttered and I sobbed softly, squeezing my eyes shut and hanging my head for a moment before I lifted it. I couldn't do this.

I. Couldn't. Do. This.

The fact of it was, I was eleven-years-old. I wasn't old enough or mature enough or even able-bodied enough to take care of people or fight in a war or whatever was happening here. I wasn't smart enough, either—I didn't know enough curses or hexes or protective spells or whatever. I could do a decent shield spell, which was pretty much all that'd kept me alive recently.

"Sera, come with us and it'll all be over." The man said in a surprisingly gentle voice, and the tears running down my face thickened as I sobbed, looking back down at my unconscious godbrother. "You won't have to endanger everyone anymore—not James, or Louis, or Alec." He told me softly, and I shook my head frantically.

"Get away from me," I ordered frantically, and Alec's head turned to the side a little: I stood up shakily and stepped over him, so I was standing between him and the men. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Fine, fine," The man said in a lofty tone. "We'll have it _your_ way, then." He waved a hand at me, turning his back on the other six men. "Capture her. I have to report to our employer." He disapparated with a crackling noise: there were only six left, thank God.

"_Expelliarmus!"_ Someone cried, and I slashed my wand defensively in front of me. "_Relashio! Sectusempra!_"

"_Protego_!" I tried desperately, and turning my face to the side as I felt the heat radiating off a spell as it cut too close to me, and then there was an explosion behind the men. I could see, between them, that someone had simply blown the door off the house, and now I could see Dean, Mr. and Mrs. Potter and Wes. Five of the men disapparated automatically, but a final one, who was either suicidal or extremely stupid, turned to me with a cruel grin. He grabbed my arm and tugged me towards him, and I smacked his chest. "Let me—" I fell silent as his wand jabbed my shoulder: he'd silencio'd me without words.

And then I felt the violent pressure of disapparition. He was actually kidnapping me.

I glanced at my brother frantically even as the world around me blurred into a dizzying array of colors—and then I stabbed my captor with my own wand in the stomach, and he released me. Mid-apparition.

I screamed as I hit the ground hard, knocking the air out of me, and I was fairly sure breaking every freaking bone in my body. I laid there, face down, my cheek pressed against the gravelly ground beneath me, for lord only knows how long before I realized that no one was attacking me. If no one was attacking me, that meant I was alone. I took a deep breath and summoned the energy to flip over to stare up at the sun-stained sky.

_Where the hell am I?_ I thought to myself tiredly. Every joint in my body ached, and I was fairly sure I was going to melt into a puddle at some point.

I pushed myself up, wincing a little as I glanced around. I was in a back alley, of some sort of dark street, and I took a deep breath, standing up. So far I seemed to be, for the most part, okay. I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. I had _no freaking idea_ where I was. And worse than that, I realized, I didn't know where the Potters' home was. And their floos would be really messed up after those guys practically destroyed their house. I couldn't get there even if I did know where I was.

But I knew where the Ministry of Magic was.

And if I got there, I could get to the auror office. And I was currently acquainted with almost the entire department. Someone there would be able to help me either call or get to the Potters.

So now… I just needed to figure out where I was.

I crossed my arms across my chest, pulling Jamie's sweatshirt tightly around myself: at some point, I'd gotten a cut on the side of my chest. Blood had leaked through my shirt, but not enough to make me worried—however, I also knew that it would worry pretty much everyone if a girl was walking around covered in blood.

I slipped into the street, pleased to see a few people as I looked around, trying to find any distinguishing landmark. I ran a hand through my hair before I took a few steps forward onto the sidewalk, before I stopped dead at a horrible thought.

What if this was a muggle town?

I blinked at the thought. That would be horrific. I wouldn't be able to floo out of here—I'd have to somehow get myself to London, then, because I didn't know any wizarding towns, specifically. And I was definitely in England—I heard vague chatter around me, in English, with English accents. So I had that going for me. And I had my wand, so in the event that it was intended for me to show up here and then get killed, or something, I was okay for that.

I scrubbed at the corner of my right eye, sniffing a little as I inspected the sidestreet I was on carefully. The only store really visible was Shillbrook, which appeared to be a general store in terms of clothes: I hesitated, before I shuffled towards the door. I needed to figure out whether this was a muggle town or not, and I could lay some hints that any witch or wizard would pick up on. Or, you know, most witches and wizards would recognize me.

I walked in the deserted store unhappily, chewing on my lip worryingly as I inspected the t-shirts and paraphernalia inside. If I'd had the money, I would have bought myself a new shirt, but I didn't think I did, and even if I happened to find some, I should use it to get the hell back home. And then I spotted a sweatshirt that actually made my year: a sweatshirt that said CARTERTON across the front.

Ha! I was in Carterton. Not that I knew where that was, but I could take steps from there. I turned on my heel and walked out of the store, walking up to the corner, turning onto what I presumed to be the main street of Carterton. I looked around for some indication of where I was, but I didn't see anything, and I made to curse under my breath—and realized that I was actually physically unable to talk. From the silencio. I snorted—that was _great_, just great.

I sniffed, swiping at my face and gently brushing my fingertips over the scrapes there, before I spotted a bus station. I ducked my head and crossed the street, hating the darkness that was growing around me.

I ducked into the bus station, inspecting the bus schedule before realizing with a sinking feeling that the next bus I could take—towards the Gloucester Green Bus Station—didn't leave until 10:18 PM. And it was 7:13, now. I got to wait three hours. Yay. Now, did I have the money?

I reached into my pocket, and felt relief as I touched the pounds there—Teddy and I had run out to grab lunch for the house, and I'd gotten the change for some odd reason. So I had some money. I just had to wait. De-lightful. I sank down on the bench under the bus station roof and leaned my head back against the glass, wondering how the hell this had happened. I was a witch with a wand, but without a voice and without any idea where the hell I was. Great.

I must have fallen asleep, because the next sound that woke me up was the screeching of the bus tires as they pulled up, and it was suddenly pitch-black out. I scrubbed at my eyes blearily, and zipped up my shoulder against the cold, before standing up and checking the bus number: S1. Perfect. The other two people who were waiting had already gotten on line, and I got on the end of the line, following them on the bus.

"Put your card in the slot, please, sweetheart," The woman driver said when I didn't offer her a card, and I opened my mouth, then closed it, reaching into my pocket and pulling out a two pound coin, reaching forward to offer it to her. "No, you need a _card_." She emphasized, but then she looked up at me, and I just stared at her miserably. "And you're over-paying me." She muttered. She sighed, looking down at the coin, before she shook her head. "Never mind, sweetheart, you just get on," The woman told me softly, and I grinned at her gratefully, moving to sit in the seat closest to her seat, right behind her. I sat down pleasedly, looking down at the ground, and she glanced at me in the rearview mirror as the doors closed automatically and the bus began to move forward.

"So, sweetheart, d'you have a name?" She asked. I opened my mouth to speak before remembering I couldn't, and I shut it awkwardly, before I pointed to myself, touching my lips and shaking my head hurriedly. "Oh no, can you not talk?" She asked worriedly, and I nodded hurriedly. "Oh, you poor dear." She murmured, and I just blushed, running a hand anxiously over my hair as I stared out the window opposite my seat, watching the dark scenery go by. I hated this. Today had been the day from hell. And it was made four hundred thousand times worse by the fact that I knew that somewhere, wherever the Potters lived, Wes and Dean and Monica and James and Alec were all having actual panic attacks. And I never wanted to worry them.

An hour later I switched buses in Oxford. I would have gotten off and tried to figure out how to get anywhere from there, because Oxford did have a wizarding community, but I didn't know where any specifically where, and it was nighttime, which added a level of creepiness to everything. So I waited fifteen minutes before I got on a new bus, the X90 to London. And then, finally, at one AM, I was finally, finally, finally in London, at Buckingham Palace.

At one AM.

And to clarify, London, at one AM, isn't exactly empty: in fact it's pretty occupied. But by the time I reached the telephone booth, I was exhausted and suffering from some sort of PTSD, because I was paranoid as hell, glancing behind myself every other second and entertaining scary imaginary situations where I got attacked in this state and all I was able to do was burst into tears.

I limped into the telephone booth and shut the door behind me in a panicky motion, making the door hitting the wall of the booth louder than it would normally be, and I jumped a litt.e I picked up the phone and dialing the numbers I knew would take me into the lobby of the ministry. I was about ready to have an actual mental breakdown as I stepped into the Lobby, crossing the empty room to the lifts and going to the second floor, which I knew would contain the aurors' office. Normally I would have had to get a visitors' pass, but the man at the desk was asleep, his head pillowed in his arms, and I just kept walking.

I got on the lift and swallowed tiredly, feeling my head spin a little as I leaned on the wall of it. I lifted the side of my sweatshirt and was horrified to see that my t-shirt was covered with both dried and still-wet blood. No wonder I was dizzy, I'd been stumbling around bleeding from this stupid wound for the last seven hours.

I stumbled off the lift, favoring my left leg as I walked, pressing James's sweatshirt to my side (I did not care if I stained it, I could clean it later), and when I reached the auror office door, I opened the door without introduction—I could apologize later. Everything could happen later--I just had to get somewhere that I knew I wasn't about to get killed. And I really wanted to check that Alec hadn't, like, died on the Potters front lawn. God, that would suck.

I stumbled into the biggest mess of people and chaos I'd ever seen.

People were running back and forth, there were papers on the ground, and room was filled with shouting and pretty much, I was sure, every single auror in the entire department.

And then I saw Wes at the same time he saw me.

He was sitting on the ground, his back against one of the partitions that separated the wall of floos from the desks of the aurors, and he'd been sitting with his head in his hands, his elbows against his knees, before he looked up when I opened the door. His eyes were red and swollen--he'd been crying--and his hair was sticking in every direction, probably from running his hand through it.

"Sera!" He cried as he pushed himself to his feet, crossing to me in a heartbeat as he pulled me into his arms, and I burst into tears as soon as he hugged me, sliding my arms around his neck. "Thank God!" He murmured in a strained voice, lifting me up and pressing a kiss to the side of my head. "You're okay, you're alive, thank God," He breathed shakily. I sobbed loudly, squeezeing my eyes shut and hiding my face in his shoulder. "Shh, Ser, you're okay, shh," He murmured to me comfortingly, running a hand over my hair protectively. I just sobbed into his shoulder, my arms tight around his neck, and I thought I heard tears in Wes's voice from there: "It's okay, kiddo. Nothing's going to happen to you. You're okay now, you're safe." He murmured comfortingly. "Take a couple of deep breaths," He murmured to me after a moment, and then there was a pause. "Holy _shit_ is that blood?" He demanded, pulling away, and he put me down as I sniffed, taking shaky, shallow breaths: my shirt had stained his with my blood. Mr. Potter came up beside me, followed closely by Professor Longbottom and Louis's father, Mr. Weasley. Longbottom pretty much pushed me into a seat that someone pushed up, and I tearfully sniffed, clinging to Wes's arm.

"Sera, what happened?" Mr. Potter asked me quietly, and I just touched my mouth and shook my head, still sobbing a little. Wes looked down at me anxiously.

"Why can't she talk?" Professor Longbottom demanded, his voice a little too loud, and I tried to ignore the people who were talking loudly behind them, but the words all blurred together, and I glanced up at Wes desperately: he had to remember.

"She was—She was silencio'd, at the house," Wes offered frantically, and I nodded anxiously. Louis's father tapped my head gently with his wand wordlessly, and I sniffed. "Sera? Is that better?" Wes asked softly.

"Yeah," I said hoarsely, then I coughed, wincing at the pain in my side: I pressed my hand to my side again. "When he apparated away with me, he dropped me mid-apparition—I ended up in some town, I didn't know really where but I think it's called Carterton?" I swallowed. "I took a bus to Oxford then another to Buckingham Palace and it took me a while to find the telephone booth and then I came here." I sniffed again, swiping at the tears on my face. "I would have gone back to the Potters but I didn't know where the house was because I'm always brought there through the floo and I didn't know any wizards in Carterton and I didn't wanna create a problem with muggles or something—"

"Sweetheart, when'd you get hurt?" Mr. Potter asked me.

"I don't know exactly." I murmured, sniffing. "But it was during the fight." The fight.

Alec.

"Is Alec alright?" I asked frantically, looking from Mr. Potter to Mr. Weasley to Professor Longbottom. "I tried to heal his head and I think I stopped the bleeding but I didn't—"

"He's fine, sweetheart." Longbottom told me. "And d'you think you need to go to St. Mungo's?"

"Can I take her just in case?" Wes requested quietly.

"Any objections, Serafina?" Mr. Weasley asked me quietly, and I bit my lip.

"Can't I just go back to the Potters?" I asked softly. "I'd really like to go to bed." Wes smoothed down my hair again, tilting my head back to look at me seriously.

"D'you think you need a doctor?" He asked softly.

"I think I need someone to close the cut and I don't know how." I murmured. I paused, biting my lip. "Please, Wessy?" Wes looked torn, seeming more and more tragic because of his red-rimmed eyes, and I felt distantly guilty, but I sniffed a little

"All right." He murmured. "But I'm trusting you here." He said seriously. "If you faint or something, I'm never listening to you again."

"Thanks." I murmured.

"Okay then." Mr. Potter ran a hand through his hair as I looked back up at him. "I guess I'll just… take you guys home." He laughed a little hollowly. "That sounds anti-climactic." I stood up shakily, and my brother watched me warily, but let me take a limping step forward. "Ginny's great at healing spells, I'm going to let her fix you up." Mr. Potter murmured to me, and I nodded carefully as we walked towards one of the floos. Mr. Potter, Wes and I stepped inside. "_Potter Estate_," Mr. Potter ordered, and I grabbed Wes's arm tightly, the feeling, similar to that of apparition, making me flinch. We landed, and I collapsed sideways a little against Wes, the sudden weight on my leg making it give out, and Wes picked me up fast as anything. I didn't even have the energy to resist, and I leaned my head against his shoulder.

"Oh, thank God," Monica breathed out in a rush as Wes walked forward with me, and she stood to cross to us, putting a hand on my cheek and kissing my forehead. "Sera? Baby Girl?"

"Hi, Monica," I said softly, but I shrunk further against Wes. I didn't want to be rude: I was just _so tired_.

"What happened? How'd they get her back?" Monica asked Mr. Potter, who came behind us: Wes just sort of shifted awkwardly, resettling me.

"She got dropped by accident, she found her way back to the Ministry." Mr. Potter murmured. "I don't have the whole story but she's about to drop and I'm not going to demand it right now."

"Sera!" Dean's voice was startlingly happy, and he rushed over.

"Hi Dean," I mumbled, my eyes fluttering now. Dean had tears welling in his eyes, and he grinned at me tearfully.

"Hey sweetheart." He murmured.

"Oh, Dean, you're good at healing spells, right?" Mr. Potter asked distractedly. "She didn't want to go to the hospital, I figured I'd ask Gin to look at it but I think she's with Lily—"

"Of course, of course, where?" Dean asked, and Wes carefully put me on the couch, wincing as he shook out his arms, and Monica unzipped my sweatshirt, flipping back one side, while Dean's large hand rested on the top of my head. "Oh, shit." Dean murmured. "What the hell…Harry, like half the skin on her side is burned." Dean sounded almost angry. "Why the hell wouldn't the next stop be St. Mungo's?"

"I didn't know this was this bad." Mr. Potter said ruefully. "She was walking and yes, she was crying, but she's eleven and was just _kidnapped_, it wasn't completely impossible for her to have been shaken up." Mr. Potter was rambling defensively now, and I was surprised that Dean wasn't hastening to reassure him: Dean didn't let people flounder just to be mean.

"What's wrong?" I asked in a soft slur, turning my head a little towards the people around me, and Wes sighed, looking down at me.

"Relax, SerBear, nothing's wrong. We just thought your cut was a little bit smaller but it's not a big deal." Wes murmured reassuringly, before looking up at my godfather with an exhausted expression. "I do agree with you, but she's worn out--can you just fix it?" Wes asked Dean. "She needs to be able to sleep, and I don't think she'll be able to until someone fixes it." My big brother murmured, and on his next words, he became pained. "She's in pain, Dean. Do something."

"Wes, she'll be okay," Dean said quietly to my brother. "Sera's not that badly hurt even with this big scary burn--she'll be up and about in a few days, good as new."

"This is the--what, fifth? sixth?--attack that Sera's gone through and each time I have to hope to God that someone will find Mum and Dad so this can _stop_. But it hasn't, not yet, and until then, Sera's my responsibility and she was _kidnapped_ today. By a man who would have _killed _her without thinking twice." Wes's voice shaking, badly, as he finished. "Good as new isn't an option anymore. All I get to pray is that she survives. So stop reassuring me until she's _actually_ okay." Wes's voice was lethal, and Dean remained silent for a minute before he turned to me. His wand touched my side lightly, and a cool feeling came over my side, and I relaxed a little, my head sagging to the side.

And then I was out like a light.

---

I woke up around eleven AM the next morning, my side really sore, but I wasn't going to complain: I'd heard Wes last night, and he'd sounded about ready to break. And I wasn't out to destroy my brother.

I pushed myself to my feet, a little embarrassed to realize that someone had put me in pajamas, but there wasn't really anything I could do about it, so I crossed my arms against the March-Morning Chill and walked out of Jamie's bedroom--I'd been on the trundle bed we'd lugged out from under the bed the first night I'd been dropped off here. I jogged down the steps easily, and stepped into the foyer, turning easily to go into the kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. Potter were standing inside, as were Dean, Monica and Wes. Great. I got to wake up and face the troops. Delightful.

They all stopped talking as I walked in, and my face burned with a blush. "Good morning," I mumbled.

"Morning, sweetheart." Monica said cheerfully.

"How's your side?" Wes asked quietly, his dark gaze following me as I crossed to the refrigerator and opened it.

"I'm fine." I muttered.

"Ser."

"Wes." I said in mock-seriousness, turning my head and flashing a grin at my brother. Wes didn't grin back, though, and I just rolled my eyes. "Wes, I'm fine. Relax."

"Sera, you were--"

"Kidnapped. I know." I shot a scowl at Wes. "But I wasn't actually anyone's captive for more than a couple seconds." I muttered.

"And then...?" Mr. Potter was pressing for information, and I turned to face him after a minute.

"He dropped me." I said quietly, meeting his gaze while my lips formed a grim line. "It was an accident, the--other guy, told all the guys to capture me." I squeezed my eyes shut, rubbing at them tiredly, "I landed in an alley on a sidestreet in Carterton, laid there for a bit, then I got up and found a bus station." I shrugged uncomfortably. "I read the schedule, figured out how to get to London. It took a while, but..." I bit my lip. "I got to the Ministry."

"Why didn't you come here?" Mr. Potter asked.

"I don't know the town name," I admitted softly, blushing a little. "I was in a muggle town so the fireplaces weren't registered, and besides that I assumed you'd closed the floo after the attack, or maybe not reopened it since--I know the men sealed the house." I sniffed. "That's why Al and I couldn't get back in the house."

"You know how to use muggle buses?" Mrs. Potter asked softly. I nodded.

"Bethy raised them to know how to work muggle things." Monica explained softly. "I don't know whether she was muggle-born or not, but she raised them like it."

"She knew?" Mr. Potter asked curiously.

"Everything." I confirmed.

"D'you think she's muggle born?" Mr. Potter asked, looking at us seriously.

"No." That was Wes, but he wasn't looking at Mr. Potter, but at me. "No, I don't." He sighed. "She had a ring--she said it was a family thing--with a mountain top with something that looked like the colusseum on it." Wes sighed. "There were figues on it--Sera used to sit there for hours and watch them move around, when she was a little kid." Wes looked at Mr. Potter. "It was a family heirloom ring and the figures moved." He emphasized. "Those rings don't come from muggles, but I just--never thought about it." There was an awkward silence in the room as we let this settle, before I looked pointedly at Dean.

"I'd like to see Alec," I murmured.

"Everyone wants to see you," Monica said softly, and I smiled a little. "We kicked them out into the back yard--most of them were just wandering around the kitchen moping." She continued after a moment, and I smiled tightly before I turned towards the back door. I opened the door easily and stepped onto the Potters' back patio, closing the door quietly behind me.

Teddy looked up at me, and grinned. "Good morning, squirt," He said, and James and Alec's faces both shot up to look at me. They were all three sitting on the grass, with Lily and Albus in the pool. I crossed to sit down next to Alec, who was on James's right side, while Teddy was on his left. I watched Albus and Lily for a second, both of whom hadn't noticed me, and before I turned my head to look at Alec. "You okay?" I asked quietly.

"I should be asking you that." Alec pointed out quietly.

"I was kidnapped for like, four seconds before the idiot dropped me." I murmured quietly, biting my lip a little.

"Really?" James asked worriedly. "He dropped you when you were--"

"Apparating." I finished softly.

"And you didn't get spliced?" Alec asked.

"Just landed on my face in Carterton." I murmured. "Took me a while to get back to the Ministry, but I got there." I dropped my gaze to the ground in front of me.

"Are you okay though?" James asked quietly after a moment, and my gaze flicked up to his face. His expression was, predictably, unreadable, but I still watched him for a minute before I dropped my gaze again.

"I think so." I murmured. There was a moment of silence before Teddy sighed.

"Harry told me you hurt your side?" He asked softly. I nodded. "What happened?"

"Burned it on a spell." I admitted quietly. I winced.

"I was out for most of the fight." Alec said softly, sounding embarrassed. "What happened?"

"A lot of talking, a couple spells. It was..." I closed my eyes, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. "I thought you were dead." I admitted softly. "You had a cut on your forehead and there was blood freaking everywhere and we both lost our wands when they blew up the patio and you..." I took a deep breath, not allowing the memories to swamp me despite the threat. "You didn't move."

"Sorry," Alec said lowly. There was a pause. "If I'd been conscious they wouldn't have taken you." He murmured.

"If I knew any spells they wouldn't have taken me. If they hadn't locked the house they wouldn't have taken me. If Lily and you had gone to go get the crap from the car than they wouldn't have taken me." I cited. "The what-if game only drives you crazy." I paused, glancing at the bus. "How was Wes?" I asked softly, looking at Teddy. "Because he's being... mega protective."

"A disaster." Teddy summarized, and I winced. "But he's your brother and you went missing, Squirt. It's predictable."

"Doesn't make it better." I murmured. I swallowed. "He freaked out on Dean last night when I got in." I let that sit for a minute, replaying the words in my head: _Sera's my responsibility and she was _kidnapped _today. Good as new isn't an option anymore. I just get to pray she survives_. I swallowed my grief for my big brother: Wes was _fifteen-years-old_. He was supposed to be having fun. Instead he was acting like a freaking adult. "This never used to happen."

Of course it hadn't. We used to be normal. I used to never get attack or kidnapped. Wes never used to get beaten up by a bludger. I used to live happily at home and Wes would come home on breaks and we'd try not to kill each other. We'd never used to be freaking _homeless_.

We used to have parents.


	25. The Kids are all F'd Up

A/N: hey kids! Just a few points: first off, just to clarify, any grandmother referred is Seamus's mother—I got a review from someone who was confused, hence, the point making—because we don't know who Sera and Wes's mother _is_, and thus we can't know _her_ mother. Also, and this requires a drum roll… this is being posted from the beautiful country of Egypt! I'm here for spring break :] I love it! Except for the vendors at the tourist places—they are super creep. They stalk me and call me "shakira" and "layla" for reasons yet to be explained and one of them said "lovely" in a super high voice. Now, that said, it's very pretty country and all the normal people are perfectly pleasant. Just not the creepers.

Xoxo

. clumsy . carrie .

Chapter 25

"Jamie…"

"Sera."

"Please?"

"C'mon."

"James Sirius Potter!"

"Serafina—" His voice cut off. "D'you have a middle name?"

I rolled my eyes patiently at my best friend, turning my head and lifting my brand-new sunglasses while I looked at him with an expression of immense tolerance. It'd been a little less than a week since the attack, and we were going back to Hogwarts in just a few days. And we'd come down to a week before the final custody trial. So the clock was ticking on a whole freaking bunch of things.

But until then, I planned on relaxing, so I was putting that plan into effect by sitting in the Potters' backyard. I was in a lounge chair, my bathing suit covered by a t-shirt of Jamie's that he'd lent me—I'd run out of clothes that fit me (apparently I'd grown an inch and a half since we'd last measured).

"Serafina Elisabetta Finnigan." I told him, squinting through the really bright sunlight.

"Serafina Elisabetta Finnigan," James began in a grand voice, exaggerating an Italian accent, and I giggled a little. "Get in the pool." He finished unceremoniously. I shook my head. "I'll throw you in," He threatened, and my eyes narrowed.

"James." I growled. "I'm not—no. Just, no."

"C'mon." James retorted, frowning disappointedly. "The pool will not hurt you."

I glared at my best friend. Did he think I was an idiot? "I'm well aware of that, smarty pants." I muttered. "I just don't want to get in. Last time I checked, that wasn't a crime punishable by forced pool time."

"Why?" He demanded. I just glared down at him. I wasn't getting the pool because I had a scar the size of freaking Russia on my side from that stupid fight. And a scar on my shoulder from the fight in Hogsmeade. I looked like a war criminal--so I was wearing this shirt until someone freaking wrestled it off me. The scars were purple and red and disgusting looking and I was, for one reason or another, embarrassed about showing them to Jamie.

James eyed me for a moment before he paused, pushing himself up on the side of the pool and holding himself there by locking his elbows. "Can you not swim?" James asked curiously.

"No!" I protested in irritation. "I can!" James raised his eyebrows. "Seriously!" James just looked at me for a long moment, obviously skeptical. "No! Jamie--don't _do _that." I whined. "That's what we do to Louis. We hound _him_." I paused for a minute, getting up and taking off my sunglasses, leaving them on my chair so I could sit on the edge of the pool, my legs dangling into the water. "You've seen me swim." I reminded him, and he frowned. "When the boat flipped over in the lake—did we or did we not swim like forty feet down?" James chuckled lightly, letting himself fall back into the pool before bouncing up and grabbing my hand and tugging me into the pool. I screamed shortly, tumbling in, and the second my feet hit the bottom of the pool, I shoved myself back up. When I resurfaced, I leapt at James, shoving him backwards as he laughed loudly. "You _jerk_!" I cried as I pushed him, and James just swam backwards a little as I floundered in my giant, soaking wet t-shirt that was over my bathing-suit. And now I had two options.

Look like a super big creeper and keep my t-shirt on. Or I could do what normal, non-scarred people would do and take it off.

Ah, decisions, decisions.

I swam to the side of the pool and pulled myself up, sticking my tongue out at Jamie before I stripped off the t-shirt and hurriedly sank back into the water. But James didn't miss the purple-red scar on my side. I saw the worry flick over his features, before his gaze went stony--much the way it always did when I got in a fight with Gallagher. It was his I'm-worried-about-you face. I blushed a little, adjusting my bathing suit self-consciously as I swam to where he was now sitting, on one of the side ladders of the pool. I grabbed onto the wall and hung from it lazily. "That from the fight?" James asked me, his concern shining through in his voice.

"Yeah," I murmured, swallowing. "From the burn." I ducked my head. "I still don't remember how I got it."

"It's not bad." Jamie told me, and I was surprised at how he sounded like he believed it—even though that was actually impossible. He had to see how ugly the stupid scar was—it was actually impossible to miss.

"It's giant and discolored." I said flatly to Jamie. He frowned.

"Ser—it doesn't—I mean you're still—" He fell silent, shaking his head a little. "You look fine." He told me shortly, his gaze now avoiding mine studiously, and I frowned a little bit at him.

But before I could pursue that, a tiny red-headed blur slammed forward and cannon-balled into the pool. "Lily--sheesh!" James shouted as he spluttered out water, and I laughed. "Can't you just get in pools by the steps or something? Like _normal_ people?"

"I wasn't about to wait for you and Sera to start _making out_." Lily whined as she resurfaced, pushing some hair out of her face, and when James and I both turned scarlet, she grinned. "_Sera and Jamie sitting in a tree," _She sang, and my heart stopped. "_K-I-S-S-I-N-G._"

"Lily--" I exclaimed, slamming forward and wrestling her into the shallow end—I wasn't sure how well she could swim. "Stop it!" I glanced frantically towards Jamie, who was just scarlet, now, his eyes wide with surprise.

"_First comes love,_" Lily continued, while I entertained thoughts of murdering her and not getting put in Azkaban for the rest of my life. I leapt at her and she giggle, scampering back towards the back corner of the pool. "_Then comes marriage_,"

"Lily Luna Potter, I swear to _God_—" I cried, glaring at her angrily as my eyes flashed threateningly. "I'm not even kidding—"

"_THEN COMES BABY IN A BABY CARRIAGE_!" She pretty much screamed, laughing hysterically, and my face turned redder as I leapt at her again, but she ducked under the water and shot off around me. I glared at her, spinning around angrily.

"Aww, Sera, am I gonna be an uncle?" Wes asked with a grin as he approached with Teddy, who was looking kind of endlessly amused.

"Do not even _start_." I commanded, spinning to face him with narrowed eyes. "Lily, I'm going to—" I fell silent as the sound of apparition made me jump and twist around, panic building between my lungs. But then I saw the familiar red- and blond-heads that were now standing in the backyard, and I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment before I opened them again to smile weakly at the Weasleys. Jamie waded over to me and I turned to him, my darkened gaze meeting his worried one.

"Just Mr. Weasley and Louis," He murmured, rubbing my arm a little, and I sighed shortly, my gaze dropping. "S'okay." His voice was gentle.

"I'm just being jumpy and stupid." I muttered, splashing the water a little with my hand.

"Well we already knew _that_," James said with a small grin, and I laughed softly, shoving him a little before I turned to wade out to the side of the pool. Teddy had gone to shake Mr. Weasley's hand, and then hugged Mrs. Weasley, and had then started promptly making out with Victoire. Louis passed them uncomfortably, pulling a face at me, and I pushed myself up, climbing out. Wes, good brother that he was, unzipped his sweatshirt and took it off, passing it to me. I hadn't told him how self-conscious the stupid scars made me, but I had a feeling he'd caught on.

I pulled it on quickly, zipping it up halfway before I ran the last three steps between Louis and me, hugging him tightly. I hadn't seen him in almost two weeks.

He tugged on the end of my ponytail, and I hugged him tighter, ducking my head down against his shoulder while I bit my lip. "You got freaking _kidnapped_!" He mumbled into my hair, and I nodded a little.

"For like four seconds." I said defensively, pulling back to put my hands on his shoulders. "Literally, Lou—I've blinked for longer than I was actually within someone's captivity." Louis snorted, flashing me a grin as he lifted a hand to push back his hair distractedly, his sky blue gaze firmly set on my hazel one.

"Still not fun." He commented softly. "Still enough to worry us." I bit my lip a little—for all that I was jumpy, Louis was making the good point that all of these attacks were really scaring the people around me almost more than they were scaring me. Louis and James were getting progressively more protective, until one day I was fairly sure they'd take Wes's advice from after the Diagon Alley attack and wrap me in bubble wrap. And Wes wasn't exactly protective—he was just more serious, now. And it worried me—he was my big brother and changing that much was kind of a big deal, for a fifteen-year-old boy.

"She got hurt." James reminded Louis as he came up behind me, and I released Louis completely so he could do that weird hand-clasp man-hug that James and Louis had taken to doing recently. I thought it was kind of sweet—especially because the Jamesie we'd started the year with didn't touch people, much less show affection. Now he was almost normal.

"How bad?" Louis murmured as he pulled away, glancing at me, and I scowled lightly, before I ducked my head, unzipping Wes's sweatshirt. Louis made a noise of protest but I just pulled back the side a little, revealing the scar. He blinked at it before he lifted his gaze to smile at me a little. "Not that bad." He murmured, mostly for my benefit, and my face burned scarlet: since when had the boys had to lie to me about my injuries? I wasn't that fragile, I wouldn't break under the pressure of hearing the truth.

"It goes away, according to Dean. It'll be gone by next Spring Break." I told them both softly, my gaze wandering: I had to find something new to talk about. "So, how was your grandma's?" I asked curiously, looking back up at him.

"Uh…" Louis looked worried for a brief moment. "Fine." He said monosyllabically. I blinked. Louis Weasley was a pretty insistent talker—almost as much as James _didn't_ talk, Louis did.

"That sounds fascinating." I said sarcastically, but I tried again with a grin. "No, but seriously, how was it?" I asked. He paused, and my grin dropped. "Lou, why're you being weird?" I asked in my typical, point-blank way.

"I—I didn't think—" Louis stumbled, blushing, rubbing the back of his . "I didn't think you'd want to talk about grandmothers."

The unspoken words _because yours is insane_ were as clear as if they'd been there.

I glanced at James—his gaze was firmly trained on my face, gauging my reactions. The boys actually didn't know how I was going to react to this.

Good news was, I did.

I reached over and smacked both of them on the side of the heads. "Stupid!" I scolded, and James swatted my hand away with a glare while Louis just stared at me fearfully. "I don't mind talking about your parents, do I?" I demanded tartly, frowning a little. "And I don't have those either, so let's just—ugh, don't _pity_ me." I sighed heavily. "I'm not going to like, flip out or anything." I scowled. "I _don't _flip out. Period." James looked like he was about to argue that point, so I glared at him for a second, and he just raised an eyebrow in response, but remained silent. I turned to Louis. "Tell me about your grandmother's or I'm telling Teddy you have an overwhelming urge to join the Gryffindor Quidditch team and he'll have to let you on because you're his girlfriend's little brother." I told him. Louis nodded obediently, his eyes wide, but James chuckled, pulling me against him, and Louis rolled his eyes.

"You got scarier when I was away." He complained, and James nodded emphatically. "Anyway, it was boring." Louis said flatly. "I'm crap at French and she won't let me speak anything but because I'm—" He blushed. "I'm the first boy in like, generations. So _Grandmére_ is extremely excited that I can be like the man of the DeLaCour house or—" He blushed harder as he fell silent suddenly, and James smirked. "Shut up, James." Louis muttered, glancing at me.

"No _wonder_ you're so feminine." James muttered, and Louis punched his shoulder. I sighed heavily, shaking my head at Louis.

"You know he'll never learn if you're so gentle with him." I warned Louis in a scolding voice. "Punches do nothing for James. We've been bullied by Teddy's quidditch conditioning." I reminded him. Louis frowned a little, and I turned to Jamie with a wicked grin, putting my hands on his shoulders and forcing him back first one step, then two. James complied, frowning as well, before he realized what was happening.

"No—" Jamie dragged out the syllable as he lost his balance by the side of the pool, and he fell backwards into the water: I laughed, twisting back to grin back at Louis, who grinned gratefully at me. "Sera!" Jamie groaned as he resurfaced. I turned back to him, putting my hands on my hips and looking down at him with a genuine smile. Jamie glanced at Louis with a vengeful glare, and then his gaze settled on my face, and his glare dropped. He looked at me for a long moment, our gazes meeting glancingly, before he dropped his eyes, blushing. He turned and swam to the other side of the pool, pushing himself up on the opposite wall and swinging his legs up. As he rose to his feet and crossed to the lounge chair where he'd left his shirt, I dropped my arms, turning to Louis with a questioning face. He just shrugged a little.

Ugh. Stupid boys.

"Wes, Sera!" Mr. Weasley called out, and I turned to look at him: Mr. Weasley was now standing with Mr. Potter, and I felt uneasy as I realized that my friends' fathers were obviously discussing my parents' case. "C'mere!" I pulled a face, grabbing my short from one of the lounge chairs and stepping into them quickly, before I zipped them up and jogged across the lawn to catch up with Wes.

We stepped closer to the adults, and I straightened up as we stopped in front of Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter. "So kids." Mr. Weasley said with a rueful smile. "I heard about the kidnapping thing." I held his gaze evenly. I didn't have to be embarrassed.

Wes watched him, his face stony but expressionless. "Kidnapping thing?" Wes asked in a hollow voice.

"Wes," I muttered, running a hand through my hair as I glanced up at him. "Not now, okay?" My brother didn't even look at me but he didn't speak again, so I looked back at Mr. Weasley, who was watching us with a light frown.

"We wanted to let you know that upon your return to Hogwarts, we'll be assigning you an auror as a bodyguard, of sorts." Mr. Potter explained quietly, sparing Wes a worrying frown.

Wes stared at my friends' dads for a second before he turned, silently, and stormed off towards the house. I watched him leave, my eyes wide, before I turned back to James' and Louis's dads. "I'm—sorry—" I stuttered out, falling back a few steps after Wes. "I'll talk to him—thank you for assigning the bodyguard people," I said hurriedly, flashing them a grateful grin before I turned and ran after Wes.

I didn't catch up with him until he'd already reached the patio at the back of the house, and I grabbed his arm just above his shoulder, stopping him. "Wes, what are you _doing_?" I muttered.

"Sera, just—give me a second, okay?" Wes demanded, rounding on me. "I'm not your fucking babysitter." I felt the hurt expression flicker over my face, but I ignored it.

"They are being _really_ good to us when _they_ don't have to be—" I hissed at Wes, pointing at Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter across the yard, subtlety be damned.

"They're covering their asses, Sera." Wes scoffed, glaring down at me. "We're a scandal for the Ministry, we're the disaster—" Wes was practically shouting now, "That could damage _Harry Potter's_ pristine reputation! The Ministry of Magic has mishandled _every single aspect_ of _us_ and only now, after you got goddamned _kidnapped_ are they bothering to take steps towards your safety because they don't want the _Prophet_ to tear them to shreds!"

"The Potters have been nothing but kind to us." I said angrily to Wes, glaring lethally at my big brother with genuine malice. When had he become so self-centered? "And aside from the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Potter have now had me over for _two_ different vacations and haven't complained despite the fact that our _father _betrayed Mr. Potter and didn't side with him until _Dean_ was taken hostage in the war a bunch of years ago and thus doesn't owe us _anything at all_," I was shouting just as loud as Wes now, "James is my best friend and Teddy's our quidditch captain and Lily and Albus are two of the nicest kids on the planet—why the hell do you think _anyone_ here is out to get us?" I demanded, waving my hand at the house. "This isn't a freaking conspiracy, Wes—at least, not here, with these people." I backtracked. There were, in fact, people trying to kill us.

"Sera, this is _ten billion times_ more political than you think it is—" Wes said in frustration.

"Only if you make it political!" I protested angrily. "Because at the heart of _all_ of this is the fact that someone's trying to kill us and we have _no freaking idea why_! That's it—it's pretty simple! It only gets stupid _political_ when you listen to the stupid tabloids, and that makes you no better than any other person who's pretending to understand what's going on from the freaking newspaper!"

My brother stared down at me before he shook his head, stepping back from me and spinning where he stood to storm into the house. He slammed the door shut behind him, and I ran my hands through my hair, clasping them on the back of my head. What the hell was his _problem_?

James came up beside me, and I dropped my arms so they hung limply by my sides as I scowled after Wes. He allowed me a minute or so of this before he spoke. "He's a jerk."

"I know and it _sucks_." I muttered angrily, turning to Jamie. "He's not—I mean, your parents have been _so nice_. And then he was—I have to apologize to your dad—"

"He'll get it." James told me gently. "It's okay."

"He shouldn't _have_ to." I insisted quietly, running a tired hand through my hair and glancing back towards Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley. "But Wes should be the one apologizing." I admitted after a moment, looking back to James desperately. "Why did he freak out though—your dad just told us we were getting bodyguards which sucks that it's necessary and stuff but other than that I mean it's a good idea, you know?" I scrubbed at my face. "And Wes is so freaking cynical now that he assumes that everyone's out to get him, and us, or make themselves look good and us look bad—I don't know but it's actually verging on paranoia." I bit my lip as I fell silent, my little crazy-rant over, and I looked at James.

"I'm sorry." Jamie muttered, shifting the towel around his shoulders uncomfortably, lifting a corner to rub his still-wet hair. "He's just worried though." Jamie shrugged. "I think you could cut him a little bit of slack—I mean—look, he's your brother and when you get attacked he gets worried." James gave me a half-smile. "I understand the feeling." He murmured.

I studied my best friend, turning to him. I loved James to pieces—really, at this point I wasn't sure how I'd ever gotten along without him—and I knew he loved me in his own emotionally-stunted way. And I hadn't seen him freak out since the kidnapping thing and I know that had to have scared him.

"You're alright?" I asked softly.

"As long as you are." James told me seriously, and my eyes widened infinitesimally. That was _such_ a sweet thing to say. It was as close to _you're my best friend _as I was going to get.

"Thanks," I murmured. James shrugged, and I smiled a little at him, before I blushed, and ducked my head, letting some of my hair fall over my face. We stood like that, inches from each other, my head down, James watching me with his inescapable hazel gaze, for almost an entire minute, letting the now-silent yard settle over us. Then I looked up at him, tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear. "Wanna go raid your pantry?" I offered. "I kind of want a cookie."

"You always want a cookie." James muttered, rolling his eyes. "But yeah. Let's go."

---

"Is this absolutely necessary?" James asked his mother as Mrs. Potter practically shoved James and me up the stairs that night. "I realize that we love family and we're all very happy to be family but do we actually have to—"

It'd been seven hours since I'd fought with Wes, and I was counting the minutes until we made up: I hated fighting with people I cared about. And I hated doubting I was right and I hated having even a single piece of me believing that _maybe_ Wes was just a little bit right. Not about everything, certainly—the Potters were being nice—but maybe about the bodyguard thing being a way to protect the Ministry from bad press rather than protect us from bad people. The thing was, there had been a bunch of attacks. And they'd figured out they were targeted a while ago—and before that, it'd been a hunch. A bodyguard might have stopped us from getting hurt at any of them, except for maybe that first time at the lake and the bludger things. If the Ministry was willing to assign us bodyguard-types, why wouldn't they have done so earlier—or at least, why were they only just doing it now?

"James Sirius Potter, I swear to God, if you don't come down these stairs in at least a sports jacket and khakis, I am not responsible for my actions!" Mrs. Potter told her son seriously.

"Mum, it's just uncle Ron, aunt Mione, uncle George, aunt Angie, uncle—"

"There is nothing _just_ about _family_, James." Mr. Potter called to him through his open bedroom door, coming through the door as he tied his tie. "And you'd look ridiculous in a bathing suit and polo when everyone else is in a suit." Mr. Potter continued with a grin, and James rolled his eyes.

"Aunt Angie always lets _Fred_ come really casual—"

"Are you Fred?" Mrs. Potter wanted to know. "Am I Angelina?" James sighed dramatically, but as we reached the landing on the second floor, I grabbed his wrist and tugged him forcefully towards his room.

"Stop whining and put on a stupid sports jacket." I ordered. James glared at me.

"Traitor!" He accused.

"You know how you always tell Louis he's acting like a girl?" I demanded in irritation. "Well now that's you!" We entered his room and I released him, turning towards my trunk to rifle through it. I grabbed the green dress that Victoire had made me buy, before I spun and stepped back into the hallway. "I'm gonna go change in Lily's room," I told Jamesie easily as I walked across the hall and stepped into the open room: Victoire looked up from where she was putting on makeup in front of Lily's chest of drawers. Vicky was rooming with Lily because Lily actually idolized her, and Louis was rooming with James and me while Dominique stayed in Teddy's room with her parents. Which meant, complexly, that Teddy and Wes (who'd been staying with Teddy) were rooming with Albus.

"Hi Sweetheart." Victoire said fondly, and then she realized I was holding a dress in my hands. She turned back to the mirror. "I won't look, I promise." She told me.

"Thanks!" I said easily, shutting the door behind me before I crossed to a corner of the room and faced the wall. I slipped off my shorts and shirt, pulling on the dress in ten seconds before I zipped it up the side, and I turned back around. "Done," I told her briefly. She glanced at me, then got a look on her face that made me impossibly nervous.

"Sera, angel, c'mere for just a minute," Victoire said. I frowned at her but obeyed, and she quickly grabbed me and lifted me up, depositing me on top of the chest of drawers.

"What's going on?" I demanded.

"Oh, calm down, I'm just going to put a touch of make-up on you—" Victoire said with a scoff, brandishing a lip gloss.

"No!" I protested, shying away from her.

"Not even just a little?" She pled. "Sera, angel, you're so pretty—let me just add a little bit of lip gloss." She grinned. "It'll impress a certain cousin of mine." She told me in a confidential whisper, and my eyes widened as I lost my breath for no apparent reason—what was she _talking_ about?

"No—I just—ah, we're just friends!" I cried in distress, tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear with one hand as I swatted at her advances with the lip gloss with the other. "I'm not trying to impress James! Or anyone else on the planet—it's just a family dinner that Wes and I happen to be crashing, right? It's not—I don't have to—James doesn't even have to wear a suit! I don't need make up!"

"Calm down!" Victoire told me with a grin.

"Terrorizing my sister?" Wes asked from the doorway, and I glanced back at him over Victoire's shoulder. My brother was in khakis and what I knew to be his nicest shirt—that was too small on him. Us Finnigan kids needed to go shopping worse than anything. "That's a little unnecessary." He told Vicky, and I tried to convey with my expression how much Wes _needed to get me out of here_. My brother smothered a smile as he glanced up at me, his gaze quickly dropping back down to the teenage girl in front of me.

"She won't let me put make up on her." Victoire muttered disappointedly, but she recapped her lip gloss, and I hopped off the dresser with my spare seconds, grabbing my clothes and sprinting to Wes.

"She's eleven, Vick." Wes reminded her, smoothing down my hair with one hand almost subconsciously, and I suddenly missed my father. Dad had always used to do that, whenever I came close enough to him. "She doesn't need to know how to put on makeup yet."

"It's a skill she's got to learn _sometime_, Wesley." Victoire told him, seemingly in a huff as she whirled around, her back to us as she replaced the lip gloss in a bag of makeup she had on her dresser. "She'll want to know it soon, to impress boys and get a boyfriend—she's almost a teenager—"

"Shut up, she's still a toddler, an infant!" Wes said, shaking his head with a grin as he clapped his hands over his ears, and Victoire was caught between irritation and amusement for a moment before she laughed softly. "And she's not getting a boyfriend." Wes explained, removing his hands from his ears and putting an arm around my shoulders. I hunched them a little—we were still fighting, I couldn't be _too_ nice to him. "She's becoming a nun." He flashed Vicky a grin while Victoire shook her head with a small smile as she turned away. Wes looked down at me, his gaze becoming more somber. "Kid, can we talk for a second?" He asked me gently, and I gazed up at him.

"Depends on what you're going to say." I said guardedly, watching him warily. I wanted to make up with Wes—but I _knew_ my brother. And I had probably heard him apologize a grand total of maybe four times in his life.

"Give me just two minutes." Wes ordered, putting a hand on my back and leading me into the hallway. He released me and jogged ahead down the steps into the living room, and I followed him warily. He sat down in an armchair, and I sank down onto the couch across from him, folding my legs underneath me. "Okay, I want to apologize for flipping out on you," He said quietly. "I'm wrong and you're right—this is only as political as you make it and the Potters are being incredibly kind by letting us stay here."

"James said you freaked out because you got worried." I told him softly, and I watched the surprise flash across his face. "And I guess I get it." I paused, ducking my head and picking at my dress. "But I—I don't want to be a hassle, you know? And I know I'm young and stuff but—" My voice got suddenly higher-pitched. "I don't want to be another problem. And I'm sorry if I am. And I'll stop—I don't know, depending on you so much or something."

"Sera." Wes's voice was heartbroken, and I glanced up at him. He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head, so his chin was touching his chest. He lifted his face after a moment, taking a deep breath. "I will _always_ take care of you. Even if I'm a complete jackass and flip out sometimes, I'll always swallow my freaking pride and make it up to you, okay? And you should never, ever, _ever_ think you're a problem." Wes sighed, and I felt a lump bloom in my throat. "You've never been another problem, kid." Wes's voice rang with genuineness and I swallowed, biting my lip as I watched him.

"You swear?" I asked softly. Wes nodded.

"Up and down." He told me seriously. "You're my sister, not a porblem."

"That doesn't mean I'm not a problem." I muttered, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind my ear. "Especially because we don't have—I don't know, grownups. We've got the Potters for now, and Dean and Monica and stuff, and Longbottom for forms, but we don't have real parents right now. So I've got you and you've got… nobody, and I feel guilty." I admitted softly.

"I've got lots of people." Wes scoffed, grinning at me. "But seriously, kiddo, you are never a problem. You're my baby sister. I'll always be around."

"And you'll never say that you're not my babysitter ever again, right?" I asked, my voice still a little higher than usual. "Because I really, really hate it when you say that. And you said that in Hogsmeade that time, too, and I hated it then--"

"Never again." Wes swore to me.

"And you'll apologize to Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley?" I asked quietly.

"Already done." Wes told me with a hopeful grin.

"Okay then." I said quietly, dropping my gaze again. "I'm gonna go get my shoes and put my other clothes upstairs." I told him with a half-smile. I got up, crossing half-way to the staircase, before I let my doubt get the best of me and I turned to the kitchen, bouncing to the doorway and looking at Louis and James's fathers. "Wes really did apologize, right?" I asked suspiciously. Mr. Weasley chuckled while Mr. Potter just grinned.

"Yes." He told me.

"Okay. Thank you!" I turned from the doorway to flash a sheepish grin to Wes before I scampered up the staircase, ducking back into James's room.

"That took a while." James observed as I ducked back inside. I grinned up at James.

"Wes apologized." I said happily, and James nodded. "To your dad and Louis's dad and me." I dumped my clothes in my trunk, grabbing the sandals that had been useless until this (finally) warm season and standing on one foot as I put one on. "And all is good again!"

"You're too happy about this." James muttered. "You're gonna think my family's crazy." I snorted in laughter as my shoe came in, and I stumbled a little, but maintained my balance as I switched feet.

"I've already met like forty million people—that has to be all of them." I told him.

"Not true." James told me. "You haven't met my uncle Charlie—who's actually pretty cool—or my uncle Percy." James pulled a face. "My uncle Percy's _really_ weird." He told me. "But I guess he's nice." James shrugged and I grinned at him, grabbing his sports jacket from the desk and holding it up. James groaned but slipped his arms into it and grinned as he turned around and straightened it.

"I hate when Mum gets it in her head we have to be formal." James grumbled as I grabbed his hand and tugged him out the door. "I hate sports jackets. I hate family dinners."

"Do you like _anything?_" I demanded as I pulled him to the staircase.

"Yes!" James said defensively. "I like ice cream! And I like Transfiguration even if you're crap at it," I shot him a warning look, "And I like…" His voice drifted off as I turned back to look expectantly at him, and I missed a step going to the bottom. James caught me, pulling me back against him, and I exhaled shortly, glancing up at him.

"Thanks," I said with a brief grin, and he just raised his eyebrows, but I turned back to face forward, stepping down the final step and tugging Jamie after me across the foyer into the kitchen.

"Sera, sweetheart, you look beautiful!" Mrs. Potter told me fondly as she removed a pie from the oven, backing up and turning to close the oven with her foot before she put the pie on the countertop. "James, don't you think Sera looks nice?" Mrs. Potter prompted with a small smile, and James glared at his mother lethally, but didn't respond, instead releasing my hand like it was fire. Mr. Weasley—not Louis's father but Mr. Potter's best friend—came in the door that led to the living room. "James, don't you think Sera looks nice?" Mrs. Potter repeated, and my face heated up.

"Gin!" Mr. Weasley said, chuckling. "Leave them alone—" He looked at us. "Louis is on the back yard helping Harry with the grill—" James and I didn't need telling twice as we practically sprinted to the back door and stumbled outside, shooting wildly panicked looks at one another.

"Mum hates me." James grumbled. "I hate Mum. I'm getting emancipated." I snorted in laughter but still maintained a safe distance as I let the cool air make my face less scarlet. I glanced around the yard before crossing to Louis, who was about to drop the plate of hamburgers. I grabbed them, flashing a grin to him.

"Hey Lou," I said cheerfully.

"Thanks," He told me gratefully, and I grinned at him, the firelight from the grill and the setting sun illuminating our faces dramatically. James came up beside me and snagged one of the buns and a hamburger—and I laughed softly as James's father shot him a death look.

"James, if you eat all of this before it hits the table." Mr. Potter threatened. I turned to look at the sun, before I spotted a dot on the horizon—an owl. I squinted at it as it got closer before realizing it was mine. And my owl was flying kind of sideways, like he was hurt.

"Hey, that's Duke…" I said, frowning. Mr. Potter looked up as the back door opened with a slam, and Wes jogged past us, turning around and pausing a moment to shoot me a tight smile.

"I might have used your owl to write to Selma this morning." He told me with a sheepish grin, and I rolled my eyes.

"You have an owl." I reminded him.

"In my defense, Minny is both kind of really mean and impossible to send to my girlfriend if I want to retain my dignity." Wes retorted, and I grinned. We'd had Wes's owl, Minny Mouse, forever, and I'd named her when I was maybe two years old or so—but Wes had taken her to school with him. Much to his chagrin, when I'd started to Hogwarts, I got a new owl.

"Don't let her hear you talking like that." I told him with a wicked grin.

"Shush," Wes muttered, waving a hand at me before he turned around and began jogging towards Duke again. I stuck my tongue out at his receding back and glanced at Louis to receive a sympathetic smile. He understood older sibling angst in a way that Jamie, as the older sibling, couldn't really. But James was good because he often got where Wes was coming from—like in my fight with him that morning, James had understood Wes wasn't pissed at _me_.

"Vick did the same thing with me when we were in France." Louis told me with an irritated look. "She left her owl at Hogwarts because he stretched a muscle or something—I think she just forgot." He continued, but I was frowning at my owl, the cogs in my brain turning. This wasn't right.

"Selma's in Australia this break." I said slowly as Wes crossed to the animal. James, who had been standing silently next to me, was now watching my face raptly, watching me come to a conclusion that scared me. "If Duke had to go all the way to Australia, he can't have come back by now." Panic overtook Jamie and me at the same time, and Mr. Potter had glanced at me sharply, before he looked back at my owl as Wes caught it. Wes untied a package from Duke's leg, making my heart pound in my throat. We'd had our mail screened at Hogwarts, but we'd never had a violation of our mail so I was pretty sure the screening hadn't continued at the Potters. But what was happening here was going against the warnings that Mr. Potter had taught us via letters, when Mum and Dad were still just sort of not-present as opposed to officially missing. "Wes!" I called out, shoving my plate on the table behind me, shooting Jamie a frantic look and grabbing his forearm desperately. "Wes, stop!"

"Hey! Wes!" Mr. Potter called out, putting the spatula-thing he'd been using to turn food over on the grill. Wes didn't react, and James, Mr. Potter and I all started forward. "Don't open that!" My brother didn't hear him, though, or ignored him, because he opened the package.

Pearl white light shot into the air above the package and I heard someone screaming, I was sure, but it might have been me or someone back inside the house. My head spun with worry and panic and the screaming—was that me? But I shook my head a little, clearing it so that James and I could sprint forward as the back door slammed open again, this time by panicked adults, and I tried to blink away the spots in my visions from the sheer brightness of the light. "Wes!" I shouted, and a tendril reached out of the box to wrap around my big brother. Sheer fear made my chest tighten, and I sprinted forward, reaching for my wand in my pocket and not even gathering my thoughts enough to think of a spell. I was almost at Wes—ten feet away, maybe—when Mrs. Potter was suddenly grabbing me and tugging both Jamie and me into her arms as Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley passed us with their much longer legs.

"Sera, sweetheart, calm down, Harry and Bill will get Wes—" Mrs. Potter told me quickly, her voice fast next to my ear, but I wasn't convinced, especially not as my brother slumped in the grip of _whatever the hell_ it was that had him and I screamed, covering my mouth with my hands. He was unconscious—he couldn't fight anymore.

"No, Wes!" I screamed frantically as another tendril reached into the air, and Mrs. Potter released Jamie and me to push us behind her, raising her wand in defense. But it wasn't reaching for me: words were written in the air. _Punished._

And then the tendrils released Wes and the light was sucked back into the box, and there was a half-second of silence as Wes hit the ground with a thump before Mrs. Potter grabbed me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me against her tightly as the other adults in house ran past us. "Oh, God, Wes," I murmured, and Jamie grabbed my hand, squeezing my hand a little. "Wessy, no, no." I murmured as Wes didn't move from his spot on the ground. "C'mon," I begged under my breath.

"He'll be okay." James murmured to me.

"What does _Punished_ even mean?" I asked, my voice soft as I looked at the words above our heads. "What did we do wrong?" Mrs. Potter shot me a scandalized look, opening her mouth to say something; her son beat her to it.

"You did nothing wrong," James said fiercely to me, and I tore my gaze from the words to look at Jamie. "Ser—listen to me. You did absolutely nothing wrong." James told me intensely, and I bit my lip, tears starting in my eyes. And James, instead of having one of the boys' customary ahh-she's-gonna-cry-run-and-hide, hugged me tightly. I hugged him back, hiding my eyes in his shoulder and squeezing my eyes shut. Jamie smoothed down my hair, and I sobbed softly. "This isn't your fault." He murmured in my ear.

I didn't believe it, even for a second.


	26. Halfway Gone

Chapter 26

It felt like I was moving through cement, or something.

The way that I was moving like the slowest person _on the planet_. James's arms were still tightly around me, holding me to him, and I was clinging to him like he was a lifeboat: I hated being this vulnerable but I trusted Jamie to have my back, here. I could hear people screaming, people shouting—I heard someone moan and I prayed it wasn't Wes. Mr. Potter was shouting something, and then, with the crack of disapparition, everything was suddenly quieter.

I pulled back from Jamie, swiping at the tears on my face, and Jamie rubbed my arm for a half second before he removed his sports jacket and put it around my shoulders. "Thanks," I said softly, and Jamie didn't even respond. Mrs. Potter had left us, at some point, and was approaching the box and my (hopefully) unconscious owl with James's uncle Ron and aunt Hermione. Teddy was standing on the porch with Louis, carrying eight-year-old Lily Potter, who was hiding her face in his shirt: James's cousin Hugo was cowering behind Teddy and Hugo's sister Rose was staring at the box, looking scared out of her wits.

"Sera, Jamesie, let's go inside," Victoire said in a rushed voice as she came up to us.

"I want to go to the hospital," I argued softly, and Vicky just gently dragged James and me back from the box. "I want to be with Wes—"

"Sweetheart, Wes'll be fine—"

"You don't know that." I murmured in rebuttal, looking up at her and projecting as much honesty as I could: I meant the words. Because that was the very scariest part of all this—Wes might be dead. Wes might _not_ be okay. And then all of the stupid effort that Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley had put into keeping us alive would have been useless to the millionth degree. Because I was as good as already dead if Wes couldn't do this—he was a freaking fourth-year. He had four times the magical training than I did.

Victoire spun to face me, putting her hands on my shoulders and meeting my gaze seriously. "Wes is a strong kid, Sera." She told me intensely, bending a little so she was at my eyelevel. "You survived Diagon Alley and he'll survive this, okay?" I knew that Vicky didn't have any information that I did—she just somehow had faith that Wes would be okay. And I wasn't going to fight with her: she knew I didn't believe Wes would be okay and I knew I didn't believe it. That was sort of the end of that.

Victoire released me, and this time when she put a hand on James's and my backs, we both went willingly back to the patio, far away from the word that was still hanging above the Potters' back yard. _Punished_. What the hell had Wes done wrong?

"Sera, is this Wes's owl?" James's uncle Ron called back to me: he was now crouching next to Duke, looking up at me. Mrs. Potter and Mrs. Weasley were trying to work with the box, their wands out as they took cautious steps towards it. The box—no bigger than a quaffle—remained motionless and innocent-looking. "Or is it the attacker's?"

"It's mine." I said softly, too softly for Mr. Weasley to hear, and Victoire sighed softly.

"It's hers, Uncle Ron!" She called back, and Mr. Weasley seemed to stare at us for a long moment before he glanced up at the word punished.

"Ted, c'mere for a sec!" Mr. Weasley called back suddenly, straightening up, and Teddy hesitated, glancing at Lily, who he was still holding. "Eh—Vicky, sweetheart?" Victoire crossed the yard back to where the attack had taken place, looking nervous, and I swallowed, reaching up a hand to wipe away some of the tears from my face. This wasn't happening. I needed to be with Wes—I thought Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter had taken him to St. Mungo's. He was always there when I was hurt, and aside from that, I wanted to make sure he was okay.

Mr. Weasley said something to Victoire under his breath, and even though the light was dimming because night was approaching and Victoire was a good hundred feet away, I saw her face go white and her gaze flick to me. She turned on the spot, and sprinted back across the yard, and when she reached me, she grabbed Louis and me, physically dragging us towards the house. Jamie followed, predictably, and Hugo slid up beside him, looking like he was about to burst into tears.

"Vicky, what's going on?" Louis demanded sharply, twisting to look up at his sister.

"Nothing's wrong, Lou, nothing's wrong," Victoire told her brother hurriedly, and I raised my eyebrows: that was a lie.

"C'mon, Victoire, what's wrong?" I asked quietly as Teddy followed us in, pushing Rose into the house ahead of us. Albus was standing at the living room window, his eyes wide as he stared outside, and Rose slipped up beside him. Teddy let Lily slide to the ground, and she bounced towards Hugo, hugging him tightly.

"Uncle Ron thinks that the attack was meant for you," Victoire admitted in a shaky voice, and James's expression went from stony to scandalized—there was only so much that Mr. Stoic could take before he showed emotion. Louis grabbed my hand and squeezed it a little. I stared at her for a second before my gaze flicked to the word outside: _Punished_. I was being Punished.

This was one hell of a punishment.

"What in the name of God did I do?" I asked quietly, my eyes tracing the crooked lettering: they looked almost like handwriting. "I don't even know what I did." I shook my head. "Or who I did it to." I bit my lip, shaking my head again. "I can't even try not to do it again if I don't know what it is." I felt tears build in my eyes. "What if this is my fault?"

"Sera, you did nothing." Louis said softly to me, his voice solemn. "We're just—kids. We can't do anything to make something of this scale happen." He sounded a little unsure, though. "And even if you did offend someone—there's never anything you possibly could have done to offend someone so badly that they'd want to do this in revenge." He paused. "You don't deserve this."

"Wes doesn't." I agreed softly. The back door opened and James's uncle walked in, carefully closing the door behind him before he turned to me.

"Serafina, sweetheart, we're going to go get Dean and Neville and then we're going to meet up with Wesley at the hospital, okay?" Mr. Weasley said seriously to me, and I nodded. James smiled a little at me, and I just glanced away, crossing my arms across my chest as I followed Mr. Weasley a little bit away from the others, before he pulled me closer to him and then we disapparated.

When we landed, I had to take a deep breath—it was hard not to have a PTSD moment with disapparition. I blinked a couple of times, my eyes focusing in on my godparents' front door as I took a few shaky, shallow breaths. Mr. Weasley smiled down sympathetically at me. "Sorry, kiddo." He muttered. "I forgot you—" He fell silent as the door opened, looking up at my godfather. "Dean." Ron said with a nod, then paused. "I didn't knock."

"You apparate loud as anything, Ron." Dean said with a small frown. "What're you doing here with my goddaughter?" He asked Ron, his gaze flicking to me, and then he paused. "Sera? Angel, why're you crying?" He asked me softly, and I sobbed a little, before I threw myself at Dean and burst into tears again. "Okay, SerBear, shh," Dean murmured, hugging me tightly. He kissed the top of my head, and rubbed my back while I sobbed, tears falling from my eyes and soaking his shirt. "Jesus Christ, Ron, what happened?" Dean demanded, sounding angry all the sudden. "I've never seen her this upset—and where the hell is Wes?"

"He's at St. Mungo's." Ron told him grimly. "There was another attack, he's not well off."

"Dean, who's at the—oh, dear." Monica's usually cheerful voice said, dropping as she approached. Dean pulled away from me to pass me to Monica, who pulled me against her tightly, and I leaned my head against her, sobbing a little. "Sera, calm down and tell me what happened, Angel."

"Wes was attacked." Dean said quietly to his wife, and I glanced up to see the genuine affection and panic on Monica's face. "Mon, stay with Alec, won't you? I'll go with Ron and Sera." Dean murmured. I squeezed my eyes shut and ducked my head, and Monica smoothed down my hair, pulling me closer to her.

"What happened, though?" Monica asked softly, looking up at Ron. James's uncle was silent for a moment before he scrubbed at his face.

"Dean, Monica," Mr. Weasley said carefully, straightening up and pushing up the sleeves of his button-up white shirt. "Harry and Bill and me—we made a mistake." He ran a hand through his hair. "We haven't been screening the kids' mail—I'm sorry, it just doesn't seem necessary, there was never—" He fell silent as Monica's other arm closed around me, wrapping around my shoulders and turning slightly so she was between me and Mr. Weasley, and Dean stared at his ex-roommate. "Dean, mate—I'm sorry."

"Ron, these are _Seamus'_ kids." Dean's voice was angrier than I had, literally, ever heard him. "Seamus—we _lived_ in the same _room_ as Seamus for six years, Ron. He is my _best friend_ and he's not here to take care of his kids so they're my responsibility!" Dean took a deep breath, his eyes flashing. "_Goddammit_ Ron!" Dean shoved Mr. Weasley, and James and Louis' uncle took it, falling back a few steps but remaining upright. "I fucking _trusted_ you and Harry and Bill with these kids!"

"Dad, what the hell are you doing?" That was Alec, and he sounded absolutely scandalized as he walked up beside his mother and me, his gaze on his usually peaceful father. Monica released me a little to put a hand on her son's arm, pulling him back a little, and Dean glanced back at Alec.

And thinking about it, I'm about five hundred percent sure that Alec coming out at that moment stopped Dean from beating the crap out of Jamie and Louis' uncle.

"Nothing, Allie." Dean muttered. Allie was Alec's nickname from when we were—God, toddlers? We'd been little kids. He hated it. It was a girl's name, it was the same length as his real name, the complaints went on and on; Alec, for the first time ever, hadn't said anything.

"Why's Sera crying?" Alec asked his mother quietly.

"Wes got attacked." I told him hoarsely. Alec blinked.

"Shit." He murmured.

"Yeah." I agreed softly.

"How?" He asked.

"Cursed box." I muttered. I blushed, suddenly. "My owl. It was meant for me—"

"No decisions on that yet, Sera." Ron said sharply to me, but the meaning was nicer than he sounded, I knew. "We don't know anything, this may have simply been meant for the first person who touched that owl."

"My owl." I echoed softly. "First person to touch it would have been me. _Should_ have been me."

"And then you'd be hurt and Wes would be here, freaking the hell out—it wouldn't help." Alec muttered, shooting me a look, and I sniffed a little, looking at him seriously. "How bad's Wes?" Mr. Weasley remained silent, and my panicky gaze flicked up to my best friends' usually very-talkative uncle.

"Harry and Bill only took him to the hospital about two minutes ago—" Had it really been that little an amount of time? "So we don't know much." Mr. Weasley sighed. "But he was pretty seriously injured, Alec."

"Ron, shut up." Dean shot at his friend, and Mr. Weasley fell silent obediently, seeming to believe he deserved the treatment. "Sera, c'mere, we're going to the hospital—Alec, you're staying here with your Mum and I don't want an argument." Dean's words cut the air, and I glanced reproachfully up at my godfather but obeyed, stepping closer to him. I looked at Alec worriedly from where I stood beside Dean.

"Floo-call me about Wes, okay?" Alec said quietly, his betrayed gaze flicking up to his father before he looked back at me. I nodded, biting my lip for a second before I glanced up at Monica. She smiled supportively at me.

"Wes will be fine, sweetheart." She told me. "He's a strong boy. He's able to withstand a lot." I looked doubtfully up at her, for the first time allowing myself to contradict the only set of adults I had left: my godparents. I loved them, I respected them—but Monica was wrong.

"He might not be." I said shakily, tears building in my eyes again. "Wes isn't superhuman. And that thing was squeezing him really hard and then it dropped him and he wasn't moving—and sometimes people aren't okay. It does happen. People die and it sucks but it happens and he wasn't _moving_, Monica." I couldn't stop the tiny sob that made my shoulders shake, and Dean was suddenly pulling me back against him, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. I twisted to look up at him tearfully, and Dean looked seriously at me, meeting my gaze worriedly.

"Serafina." Dean said softly to me. "Calm down. Wes will be fine. Wes is a big boy and has taken some hits before and survived those—and you have too. Monica and I'll take care of you guys, okay? He's going to be fine." I just dropped my gaze: I still didn't believe it. I didn't allow myself to believe it because like Victoire, my godparents were _just_ reassuring me. Not being actually informational. Just reassuring me.

"Dean, you and Sera can go to the hospital—I'll grab Neville, alright?" Mr. Weasley said quietly to my godfather, who just spared him an angry look before he looked back down at me, his expression softening.

"Fine." Dean murmured, glancing back up at Mr. Weasley. He paused, pulling me tightly against him and meeting Mr. Weasley's gaze evenly. "But Ron. If Wes doesn't make it through this—"

"Harry, Bill and me will be the first to crucify ourselves." Mr. Weasley reminded Dean quietly. "We've been protecting these kids from the get go and as much as you'll blame us, we'll blame ourselves—" He paused, running a hand through his shock of scarlet hair shared by all the Weasley adults: even most of their kids, except for James, James's brother Albus, Louis, Dominique and Victoire. "I know you're pissed off, Dean, and you have every right to be but threatening me isn't going to help." Mr. Weasley sighed at the end of his speech, and Dean nodded once before he looked down at me.

"You okay to diapparate?" Dean asked me, and I nodded hurriedly. Dean pulled me tightly against him and I hugged him, squeezing my eyes shut and pressing my face into his shirt in my effort to protect myself from the feeling of disapparition. Dean hung on to me while we disapparated, and I released him the moment we landed, sucking in oxygen shakily, and Dean led me through the seemingly-broken window that was the magical gateway to St. Mungo's.

We stepped inside and Dean wasted no time in bee-lining to the main desk, and I followed him, feeling panicky. "Hello," Dean said politely, but hurriedly, when he reached the desk, addressing a nurse. The woman looked up at him, her eyebrows raised, waiting for him to continue. "I'm here to see my godson, Wesley Finnigan? He was brought in a few minutes ago, he was in a cursed object incident." The woman watched him for a moment before her eyes narrowed.

"I'll have to ask Mr. Weasley or Mr. Potter to confirm your identity before I let you see him." She said suspiciously. I bit my lip, bouncing onto the balls of my feet a little, and the woman's gaze flicked down to me. "Oh, my." She murmured as she recognized me. Wes and I were in the papers enough for it to happen—though it was still a little odd. "Alright, well…" She said doubtfully, looking up at Dean. She looked back down at me. "Is he your godfather, Serafina?" She asked me, her voice suddenly sympathetic, and I nodded hurriedly. "Alright, well—they're upstairs, in room 419. But Wesley's still receiving immediate care, so you won't be allowed in: Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are in the waiting room down the hall from there." She informed us, and Dean didn't even spare her another glance, striding towards the elevator while I just sort of trailed after him. _Please Wes, be okay_, I thought to my brother, four floors above me.

Minutes later Dean slammed open the door to the waiting room that the nurse had directed us to, and ignored most of its' occupants, instead focusing in on Mr. Potter, who had stood up the moment Dean opened the door. "Dean I'm—" James's father began.

Dean just slammed Mr. Potter back against the wall behind him loudly, making Mr. Potter wince. Louis's father glared at Dean angrily, moving forward, but Dean ignored him, too. This wasn't right—Dean had finally hit his breaking point in terms of stress, I knew. With Dad and Mum missing and Wes and me being hunted and Wes getting the crap beat out of him by that stupid thing—it was too much for even the most reasonable person on earth. But it wasn't right, all the same. Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley didn't mean any harm, they hadn't expected mail attacks so they hadn't mail screened. It was a mistake and it sucked that Wes had hurt but it wasn't like they'd done it on purpose. "So help me God, Harry, if Wes has a single lasting injury as a result of _your_—"

"Dean, stop it." I ordered, going forward and grabbing his sleeve, pulling him backwards. Dean fell silent, but didn't release Mr. Potter. "He didn't do anything wrong."

"My godson's in the hospital because of this _ass_ and—" Dean began.

"Beating him or anyone else up won't help." I reminded him, frowning up at Dean. Dean tore his gaze from my best friend's father to look down at me before he released Mr. Potter, turning and stalking away from him, sinking down in a chair on the opposite side of the room. Dean dropped his head in his hands, and I blushed as the only other family in the room—a woman with her teenage daughter, left the room with a judgmental glare at us, slamming the door shut behind them. There were a few beats of silence there.

James's father straightened out his shirt, his gaze following Dean across the room apologetically. "Dean, I'm sorry." He said sincerely, sounding heart-broken. "You know that Wes and Sera—they're practically part of the family now. I would never do anything to hurt them—"

"Then please explain how the hell this keeps happening." Dean hissed, lifting his face to glare at his former roommate. "And Harry, Jesus—let's even say you hate Seamus for what he did his sixth year, siding with his Mum over you, before he apologized _profusely_—you don't hate _me_." Dean shook his head. "We're friends, I got goddamned _kidnapped_ for being your friend and I wouldn't renounce you and now these kids need our help and you've half-assed this _every single step of the way_! You owe me these kids' protection!"

"Dean, I have never and would never put Sera or Wes in danger knowingly." Mr. Potter said emphatically, slowing his words. "You think—Merlin, you think Ginny would let me do that? Or, Hell, Dean, I don't know, d'you think _James_ would let me do that?" Mr. Potter sounded defensive, and I couldn't really blame him. This wasn't Mr. Potter's fault.

"I _think_ that you got lazy, Harry." Dean hissed across the room. "You got lazy with their protection, and they're _my_ kids until Seamus and Bethy come back! And I know sure as hell that were these situations reversed, I'd be bending over _backwards_ protecting James, Albus, Lily, and Teddy. And I know that if this ever happened to any of _your_ kids and it was _my_ fault, I wouldn't live to see tomorrow. So consider yourself lucky." Dean snorted, shaking his head, looking away from Mr. Potter. "My goddaughter's here and she comes first, at least in my book." I swallowed, pulling Jamie's sports jacket more tightly around me. I glanced up at Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, both of whom were watching me, now.

"Sera, I am sorry." Mr. Potter said quietly to me, looking at me evenly. Dean stood up angrily, but I just sighed.

"This isn't your fault." I told him, rolling my eyes impatiently and turning away, towards the windows that viewed the hallway of the hospital, the window that took up the entire top-half of the wall. "You didn't send the package and it's not _your_ owl." I dropped my gaze.

"Dean, you can't be here." Professor Longbottom said as he walked in, trailed by Mr. Weasley. Dean looked personally affronted, turning towards Longbottom confrontationally, but he wasn't phased, just looking seriously at Dean. "You want custody of Sera and Wes come Thursday?" Longbottom demanded.

"Of course—"

"Then you can't be here." Longbottom insisted. "Seamus's mother's lawyer will take this and _run_ with it. She'll get custody and then you can't help Sera or Wes, no matter how much you may want to." He paused. "And it sounds like you're acting like a jackass anyway—"

"Neville, their _stupidity_ led to my godson being in the hospital!" Dean protested angrily.

"And your stupidity is going to lose you custody of Wes and Sera for at least six months." Longbottom retorted. "What's happened to Wes has already happened, it's in the past, you can't change it. You can change this—go home, Dean."

"No." Dean said flatly. "Losing custody of them to Seamus's mother will be awful but leaving Sera and Wes here would be worse." His words lacked all anger, for once that night, because he truly believed them. I didn't, however, and neither did my teacher: Longbottom sighed heavily, glancing back at James and Louis's fathers, before his gaze landed on me. He turned to face me, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Sera? Sweetheart, were you hurt in the accident?" He asked me gently, and I shook my head a little, biting my lip.

"Just Wes." I told him softly. "Mrs. Potter held me back."

"Well remind me to thank Ginny." Neville said with a weak smile. His smile dropped after a second, though. "But in the future, you need to stay back from the attacks if you're not immediately involved, okay?" He asked me, and I frowned a little. "I know it's not fun watching from the sidelines, but you take enough injuries already, Sera. I don't want to have to sign more Medical Permissions than I have to." He ruffled my hair, and I swatted his hand away with a half-smile. Longbottom grinned at me then looked up at Mr. Potter, his grin dropping. "Harry, how was he when you guys apparated here?" He asked him assessingly, and Mr. Potter glanced at me, then looked back at Longbottom nervously.

"He wasn't doing well." Mr. Potter admitted, and I felt my own shaky smile drop as panic swept me. "But he was breathing. There was just—well—quite a bit of blood." Louis's Dad nodded, and the other Mr. Weasley looked uncomfortable, all the sudden.

"Family of Wesley Finnigan?" Two Healers, one a man and one a woman, both of them looking fairly young walked into the room, making all of us look up at them. I took a half-step towards them, but the young man's gaze had focused in on Mr. Potter.

"Oh my—Hello Mr. Potter, I'm Domitius Larsson, it is _such _an honor to meet you!" He said earnestly, rushing forward to hold out a hand to shake: Mr. Potter, to his credit, just met the younger man's gaze evenly. Domitius Larsson seemed unbothered by the obvious brush off, turning to Mr. Potter's best friend, Mr. Weasley. "And Mr. Weasley!" He sounded outrageously excited. "This is so exciting to meet two war heroes—"

"Dom, what the _hell_ are you doing?" The woman demanded in a hiss, grabbing the back of Domitius Larsson's lime green healer robe and tugging him backwards.

"Oh, c'mon, Meg, they're war heroes, I'm sure they like being recognized…" Healer Larsson said.

"They're not at a freaking _book signing, _Dom—this is a _hospital_, we are _healers_. Not paparazzi." The woman hissed at him, and he glared at her, but she ignored him blatantly, looking straight at us. "I'm Healer Megan Mendell, whose Wesley Finnigan's family, again?"

"I'm Wes Finnigan's legal guardian and this is his sister." Professor Longbottom said quietly, gesturing to me. "How is he?"

"He's been better." The woman acknowledged with a serious look for Professor Longbottom. "He had a bunch of broken ribs—all but one of them had at least a hairline fracture—" I actually _felt_ the blood leave my face as I went ashen, "And a monster concussion in addition to a skull fracture." The woman raised her eyebrows. "He's got no swelling the brain but he did have some pretty scary-looking gashes—they were all shallow, though, and have been sealed up." She paused, letting this sink in before she continued. "If it's alright, I'd very much like to know what happened."

"We're still working on that ourselves, Healer Mendell." Louis's father said with a shallow smile.

"Can I see him?" I asked anxiously, looking at the young woman, who watched me for a moment before nodding slowly.

"If you're under thirteen you need an adult to come with you." She told me carefully. "And while the usual rule is that only parents and legal guardians may go in, I understand that Seamus and Elisabeth Finnigan are still missing and your legal guardians are not your godparents," She said professionally, keeping her voice even. "So Wesley's godparents and legal guardians may go in, as well as any relatives as long as they all check in with the visitor's desk." She paused, her glance skidding over to where Mr. Potter stood behind me. "And if aurors on the case would like to go in to visit him they need to present their Ministry of Magic Identification Badges." The woman continued.

"Thank you," Dean said quietly to the woman.

"Is he conscious?" I asked her.

"He's coming around." She told me with a small smile. She paused, then, her smile dropping a little. "But due to the unpredictable nature of cursed objects, we're going to sedate him for twenty-four hours: if there are lasting consequences, we don't want him to be in pain. And because of this sedation, coupled with the blood loss and the concussion, we're not going to be releasing him until next weekend." My head spun with what that meant: Wes would miss the train to Hogwarts.

Wes would miss the custody trial.

It'd already been agreed that we were missing school for the trial—both Dean and Monica as well as my Dad's mum wanted to have us testify. Now obviously, Wes would not be testifying.

I was still going to be, though. Just alone.

"Oh," I said softly. "That—" I paused. I might not even see Wes conscious—the train for Hogwarts left tomorrow. "Can I see him?" This time I looked up at Professor Longbottom. He nodded, and I saw Dean's hurt expression in the side of my vision, but I couldn't help that I'd turned to Longbottom instead of Dean. My godfather had acted like an ass to _everyone_ in the last ten minutes alone.

"I'll meet you in there, okay?" Longbottom said to me gently. "I need to talk to Dean and Harry." I nodded, ducking my head and pulling Jamie's jacket tighter around me. Longbottom only just seemed to notice it now. "Whose is that?" He asked me with a small frown.

"Jamie's." I said quietly, and I saw Louis' Dad and Jamie's Dad trade significant looks. I looked at the woman. "Where's Wes's room?"

"He's in 419, the second room on your left." The woman told me, and I nodded, slipping out the door to the waiting room and into the hallway. I closed it behind me carefully, before I walked down the hallway, and opened the door to Wes's room. I stopped there—Wes was in a hospital gown, and covered in bandages: I winced at the painful looking bruising on his hair line, and eyed the bandages that wound out from under his hospital gown to his right wrist, stopping there. The circles under his eyes that had seemed to grow bigger every day since Mum and Dad had disappeared were deeper and darker, and his skin seemed paler under the tan he'd gotten on break. There were no machines, none of that—I'd seen my Dad's dad, when he'd died, in the hospital, and he'd had all these machines attached to him. It'd scared me half to death.

But somehow, this was scarier.

And it was probably because Wes was my _brother_. He was all I had left and I knew him and he was lying in a hospital bed looking like crap.

I crossed to the seat beside his bed, twisting it a little so that I was more at an angle facing him, then sat down, kicking my nice sandals off under the chair and folding my legs beneath me. I stared at Wes for almost an entire minute of sheer silence before I sighed.

It was going to be a long day.

---

I stayed at the hospital all Saturday, then all Saturday night, sleeping in short, restless bursts. Dean suggested I might want to move to a house—his, Mr. Potter's, anyone's—and a bed, but stopped that argument when two aurors were placed outside our door as protection. But Sunday morning, I had to leave. And Wes still hadn't woken up.

"You'll owl me, right?" I demanded of Monica as I emerged from the bathroom, having changed into new clothes that Mrs. Potter had brought. I'd taken a shower on Monica's orders last night—she'd shown up to relieve Dean on god-child watch around eight o'clock—so I looked sort of okay, relative to how a girl who'd pretty much lived in a really uncomfortable chair for the last thirty hours could look.

"Of course." Monica said. "And you'll remember to eat and sleep and breathe? " She asked me with a teasing smile. I returned a weak smile of my own, and she grabbed my hands, looking at me. "You look beautiful sweetheart, alright? And I'll have Wes owl you the minute he's well enough to do so." She pulled me into a brief hug, pressing a kiss to the top of my head, and then pulled back. "Write me too, okay?"

"Yeah." I agreed, looking towards Mrs. Potter, who was standing in the doorway. I looked back at Monica. "Thanks." I said softer, forcing a smile: I did mean the word, even if I didn't feel happy enough to produce a real smile. "You've been really good to Wes and me."

"It helps that you're the best goddaughter ever." She said with a smile, smoothing down my hair. "Stay safe." She ordered as she released me a moment later, and I nodded hurriedly, turning to Mrs. Potter. She shepherded me forward, a smile on her face.

"Sera, Harry took your things to the station with James," She told me easily, and I tried to ignore the auror who immediately broke off his door duty to follow Mrs. Potter and me down the hall. My new bodyguard, Eric Davies. He was kind of creepy, and really young—he could only have been out of Hogwarts one or two years. "So you don't need to worry about anything." She told me emphatically, and I hid a smile, glancing down. Mr. and Mrs. Potter, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Longbottom, and Dean and Monica had _all_ told me something similar to that. Wes would be fine, they all promised. And I did believe them, now.

But I still wanted to see him conscious. Because him _unconscious_ was still scary and I still didn't like it very much and it wasn't very comforting to look at your unconscious fifteen-year-old brother for thirty hours.

Twenty five minutes later, Mrs. Potter, Eric Davies and I stepped onto Platform 9 ¾, having walked from St. Mungo's: we had the time, and I hadn't had any exercise in days.

I spotted Selma before she spotted me, from where she was standing with Eli, Devon, Irena and a few other friends of Wes's, but it only took a half beat for everyone to spot me: I did have a body guard and James's mother with me. Selma crossed to me in a half-beat, her eyes wide with panic as she held out today's newspaper, complete with a picture of Wes on it. "Sera, how is he? Is he okay?" She asked me frantically.

"He's still unconscious." I told her softly. "But he'll be okay. He just isn't coming to school till next week." Selma looked about ready to faint with relief.

"Thank God." She murmured. She looked down at me. "Are _you_ alright?" She asked me softly, then her gaze flicked up to my new giant auror man-friend. "And who's this?"

"I'm fine." I told her. "And this is Eric Davies, auror. He's my new bodyguard." I smiled shallowly at her. "He stalks me everywhere now." Selma blinked before she giggled a little, looking up at Eric Davies.

"Eric Davies—were you head boy at Hogwarts two years ago?" She asked, and Eric nodded, but said nothing. She grinned. "I'm Selma Langer—I think my sister was your girlfriend for a minute and a half." Eric didn't respond, and Selma grinned bigger: I could see this was going to be one of those things she didn't let go. Selma was _awesome_ at bugging people. She bugged Wes all the time before they started dating—I remembered letters home from him detailing elaborate bother-schemes executed by Selma. And Eric was evidently her new project. "D'you remember her? Dempsey Langer?" Eric didn't respond again. He wasn't really supposed to respond—just to guard. It was kind of intense, actually—according to Mr. Potter, Eric was here _only_ to guard. We weren't supposed to be friends. Just bodyguard and bodyguarded.

"Sera!" James called out behind me, and I spun around just in time to have James Potter crash into me, hugging me tightly. I giggled, feeling okay for the first time in the endless day that this weekend had melted into as I wrapped my arms around him tightly.

"He's okay!" I told Jamie in a higher pitch than my voice was usually at, and I pulled away to look at James. James grinned at me outright. "I mean, he's still unconscious but he'll _live_ and stuff." I laughed softly. "It's gonna be okay." I turned to Louis as he came up just behind Jamie, and I hugged him tightly too, grinning hugely. "He's okay!"

"I've never seen you this excited before." Louis said, grinning a little as I released him, and I nodded. His gaze flicked to Eric Davies. "Who's _this_?" Louis asked, sounding fascinated, and James looked up at Eric too.

"Eric Davies, auror and bodyguard." I introduced, glancing up at Eric with an unholy grin. "Eric, these are James and Louis. They'll be around a lot." Eric didn't say anything, and I looked back at Jamie and Louis. "He doesn't talk."

"Ever?" Louis asked.

"Not yet." I shrugged, then paused, frowning as I looked back up at Eric Davies. "Assuming you _can_ talk." I said slowly. He just looked down at me, then raised his eyebrows. I grinned, looking back at Jamie and Louis. "He can talk, I think."

"Guys, stop antagonizing Eric." Teddy ordered, coming up behind us, but he grinned at me. "Heard Wes was okay." He said with a nod, and I nodded hurriedly. "Good." He glanced at Eric. "Good to see you again, Eric." Eric said nothing, and Teddy sighed, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "You _can_ talk, you know. This isn't top-secret or anything—it's not like someone's gonna miss you walking around our school." Teddy said frankly.

"Teddy, Sera, Jamie, Louis—get on the train!" Mrs. Potter urged. She patted Eric's back. "And Eric, dear, if you hang in there I promise they'll stop bothering you." Eric just nodded, and I grabbed Jamie's hand and pushed Louis on to the train before me. Eric followed, looking like he was about to get killed. "They're really little angels!" Mrs. Potter called after us, and James blushed scarlet.

"Little angels!" I heard Teddy mock as he got on the train after Eric. I grinned back at Teddy, ignoring the pang of missing-ness that hit me as it occurred to me that this would be something Wes mocked me about. I hadn't even gotten to see Wes conscious.

I just forced the grin to stay up and followed Louis to an empty compartment. I was going back to Hogwarts, I was with my friends, and in a few days I would have a permanent home. This would be okay.

It had to be.


	27. I've Seen Enough

A/N: okay guys, so I'm going to ask you to review because my storystats are broken and I will not know you read if you don't review… I'm sorry, I know it's a pain in the butt…

Xoxo

. clumsy . carrie .

---

Chapter 27

"I'll see you tonight, right?" I asked James and Louis anxiously as I smoothed down my dress in front of the mirror in the common room. Eric Davies, bodyguard extraordinaire, was in an armchair by the fire, doing the Prophet's crossword puzzle. He'd figured out my second day back at Hogwarts that I didn't need a lot of protection—he still followed me from class to class and stuff, but he was okay with waiting outside and other things like that.

It was Thursday morning, and James and Louis had, because they were the best friends ever, woken up early in the morning with me so they could wish me luck or be supportive or something—whatever the reasons were, I was really pleased they were awake. I was already going to have a hard day—getting to see my best friends made it a lot easier though. I couldn't imagine getting through a day without seeing my friends—not seeing James over spring break had been hell the first week. Of course, seeing James hadn't really been worth the kidnapping of me/attack on Wes. But what was done was done. And we couldn't have known that James's house was attack central.

"Of course." Louis scoffed, and I grinned at him in the mirror, before I turned around to face him, still grinning. "Jamie might be asleep—"

"I will _not_!" Jamie cried defensively, shooting a dark look at Louis. "I stay up until ten usually or something—never—"

"James, _calm_ down." I told him easily, crossing to the boys and sitting down between them easily, my arms looping around Jamie's and Louis's shoulders. "He's just joking."

"Am not." Louis retorted, twisting to face me and his cousin, an unholy grin on his face. "James is _never_ up before the end of breakfast—he's losing several hours of sleep on this." Louis pointed out. "And we were all up till like midnight last night finishing that Transfiguration paper on the theory behind the muggle explanation for new species. So he lost sleep there, too—have you _ever_ been up this early?" Louis demanded of James, who was rapidly turning red.

"Louis, _shut up_." James ordered angrily.

"It's _true_," Louis said in an exaggerated voice.

"Oy, both of you!" I said, frowning a little and hitting the backs of both of their heads: Louis winced, and James rolled his eyes, rubbing the back of his head. "Quit it." I said quietly. I took a deep breath, and then swallowed. "D'you guys want anything from the outside world, by the way?" I asked. "Professor Longbottom said that I could go out for lunch because I've got Eric to take me and stuff." My gaze flicked to my bodyguard, and Eric raised his head to look at me, silently. He still hadn't spoken. "Longbottom said you'd take me to lunch." I said quietly, and he nodded once, looking back down at his crossword.

"Nah." James said easily. "I don't need anything." He grinned at me, nudging me with his elbow. "Course, we should be asking if _you_ want anything—isn't your birthday in a month or something?" He asked. I nodded with a grin, blushing a little.

"Sera—I didn't know your birthday!" Louis said naggingly, sounding a little annoyed. "What day?"

"May 9th." I said, turning to him with an apologetic grin. "And guys, you don't have to get me anything—"

"Someone told me once that everyone wants a good present even if they say its okay." James said, and I rolled my eyes, smiling unsurely at him. James seemed to sense my discomfort and switched subjects. "So how's Wes?"

"He says he's fine." I said carefully. "But—I dunno, I think he's doing okay but not perfectly, y'know?" I shrugged. "I'm seeing him today after the trial. So I'll have better information tonight."

"Miss Finnigan," Professor Longbottom's voice came from the portrait hole, and Eric folded his newspaper and stuck it in the backpack at his feet, zipped it shut, and stood up as he slung the bag over his shoulder in one fluid movement. "It's time to go." Longbottom said unnecessarily with a brief surprised look for Jamie and Louis, and I stood up carefully, the nervous feeling in my stomach tripling. Louis stood up too, crossing to the arm chair beside Eric's and grabbing something on it: he walked back to me and shyly handed me his sweatshirt. The one that said Chudley Cannons that I'd stolen from him over break.

He _loved_ this sweatshirt.

"You can have it for today…" Louis hedged, and I bit my lip, smiling shyly, before I hugged him tightly. Louis was the best. Maybe ever. He loved this sweatshirt. More than his family. This sweatshirt was his prized possession, for whatever reason. His lending it to me was a bigger show of love than I'd dared to expect from either of the boys.

"You're the best, you know that, right?" I asked him, and he laughed a little, his chest rumbling with it.

"I try." He assured me with a grin as he pulled back, and I grabbed the sweatshirt from him, unfolding it and holding out for a moment, admiring it. Then I grinned and turned it around and flipped it over, putting my arms in it and then my head, not caring that it looked odd over my nice dress. I grinned again at Louis, relishing the warmth of the sweatshirt.

"Okay, so I'll see you guys tonight, right?" I asked, and both boys nodded. I grinned at them, tucking my hands into the little hand pocket over the stomach area on the sweatshirt and then walked over to Professor Longbottom, Eric Davies following. Eric and Longbottom went out first, and I glanced back at the boys one last time before I left the room.

The next time I would be in this room, I would officially have a guardian.

---

"Okay, guys, just wait here," Professor Longbottom instructed Eric and me two and a half hours later: we'd spent an hour and a half of that time getting through security. We'd been through a million different scans and been asked several different identifying questions by several different people. It'd gotten _really_ annoying after a while.

I turned awkwardly Eric, looking up at him anxiously as Longbottom ran off, and my bodyguard looked wordlessly back down at me. "I am not excited about this." I told him quietly, looking up at him for a long moment, and then I looked away, my gaze dropping to the ground. "What if my grandmother gets custody?" My nervousness was making me babble to this poor guy, but I couldn't help it. "She's elitist. And hates me a little bit." I frowned. "And Dean hates Mr. Potter right now, so that sucks. Because either way I won't see James a lot this summer. Or Louis. Well—maybe Louis, he might be pureblood, I don't really know about his mom's side, but his dad's pureblood. So my dad's mum might let me see him but Dean doesn't like Mr. Weasley right now _either_." I fell silent for a second, and then blushed, glancing up at Eric. "Sorry." I said softly.

"Sera!" Mr. Potter called out, and I turned to face him, Eric bristling and taking a step forward beside me. Mr. Potter waved at me, before his glance bounced up to Eric. "Mr. Davies," Mr. Potter said with a nod, and Eric nodded. Mr. Potter looked back down at me. "Sorry, I think I'm a little late," Mr. Potter said with a grin. "That security's pretty intense—it's not usually this bad, but…" His voice drifted off, and I blinked, and then straightened up.

"Is it—" I fell silent. This was going to sound really self-centered if it wasn't true. And I never wanted to seem that way. But it seemed like a real thing. "It's not—" I swallowed. "It's not because of me, right?" I asked softly, and Mr. Potter winced, rubbing the back of his neck just the same way that Jamesie did sometimes when he was embarrassed. I turned scarlet. "Oh God—I'm so sorry for the inconvenience!" I cried, scarlet now, and Mr. Potter winced audibly, again.

"Sweetheart, no one's mad at you." He said firmly. I just shrunk a little and Mr. Potter watched me worriedly for a moment before he sighed quietly, beginning to speak: "Anyway, Sera, the way this is going to work," He began carefully, and Eric glanced down at me momentarily, before looking back up at his boss. "Is that you and Mr. Davies are going to sit out here while the trial takes place—no one wants your testimony to be affected by either Dean and Monica or your grandmother." I bit my lip. "And we'll call you in, you'll answer whatever questions are asked by the lawyers, and then you'll get to leave." Mr. Potter hesitated, now. "The thing is, you're able to leave right then—like go back to Hogwarts leave—or you can go out to lunch and come back for the verdict."

"Could I go visit Wes instead of lunch?" I wheedled softly, and Mr. Potter nodded with a smile.

"Wes would definitely like to see you." He told me, and I looked up at him hopefully.

"Have you seen him?" I asked softly.

"He's really eager to see you." Mr. Potter assured me, and then there was a flurry of noise. Eric stepped in front of me protectively as my grandmother, clad in a large coat with a luxurious fur lining and severe-looking high heels. She was accompanied by a man in a very formal pinstripe suit, and he steered my father's mother towards me firmly.

"Serafina," My grandmother said stiffly as she looked at me, and I smiled a little uncertainly at her. Her gaze flicked to Eric. "And who's this?" She asked, her eyes narrowing in on him.

"Mr. Eric Davies, Ma'am." He said quietly, extending a hand for her to shake, and I raised my eyebrows: these were the first words I'd heard him say. She regarded him wearily before she gently took his hand, shaking it once, before she took her hand back as if she'd been scalded. "I'm Sera's bodyguard until whoever is committing these crimes is caught." Eric continued quietly.

"You're very young." My grandmother noted, pursing her lips in displeasure, and I bit my lip as an awkward silence fell. "When I gain custody of my grandchildren, Mr. Davies, your services will no longer be needed as I will be hiring a bodyguard for the children rather than accepting charity from the Ministry." I blushed scarlet at her irritated tone, dropping my gaze. "I would also like to reimburse the Auror Department for their services." She said quietly.

"That's unnecessary, Mrs. Finnigan." Mr. Potter said quietly, with a smile.

"It's Ms. MacBride." The woman said sharply. "I don't go by that _muggle's_ name." My heart dropped, and I considered how hard it would be to just disappear.

"The same thing stands, Ms. MacBride." Mr. Potter said tiredly. "Your son is a close friend of mine." My grandmother looked at my best friend's father for a long moment. "My son and Serafina are very close friends, as are my nephew and Serafina. Wesley's on my godson's quidditch team, as is Serafina—" Mr. Potter stopped with a smile. "You don't need to worry about owing the Ministry, in any case."

"MacBrides don't need to accept charity." She said quietly. "We are quite able to provide for ourselves." I blushed again, and Mr. Potter sighed quietly. My grandmother looked at me sharply, and I prayed she would look away. "Serafina, I never did receive an apology for the treatment I received two weeks ago." She said sternly, raising an eyebrow, and I chewed on my lip. "And the treatment was unacceptable. I do require an apology." I exhaled shortly, panic seizing me a little. My grandmother's critical gaze flicked to my clothing. "And this sweatshirt is highly inappropriate." She pointed out, reaching out to pick at the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

"It's my friend's." I said softly. "He leant it to me for good luck." My grandmother frowned severely, but glanced at her lawyer, who nodded once, and I felt my heart squeeze--she wanted to make sure she wasn't too rude so that she got custody. Oh, God this was a disaster.

"That's..." Her voice trailed off, and there was a beat of silence. "Serafina, you _must_ apologize." She told me in a steely voice. "I'll not accept anything less from my granddaughter."

"I—I don't think I did anything wrong, Ma'am." I said softly. My grandmother's nostrils flared as she glared down at me. "I meant what I said about Mum's blood status."

"We'll talk about this later." She hissed at me, pulling away, and the man in the suit followed her obediently through the doors that Professor Longbottom had gone through. Mr. Potter watched her go before he sighed, turning back to me.

"She's not going to get custody, right?" I asked, my voice high and tight. "Because I can't—she hates me. And Mum and Wes." I shook my head a little. "I'm not going to live with her." Mr. Potter looked down at me tiredly.

"I really hope not, Sera." He said quietly to me.

Somehow, that wasn't very comforting.

---

"Serafina Finnigan?" A court officer came out and asked quietly, and I looked up sharply from my spot on the bench.

It'd been a very long four hours since the actual trial had begun: Dean and Monica must have gotten to the courts before me because I'd not seen them. Eric hadn't spoken since he'd spoken to my grandmother, and I'd not even tried to lure him into speaking. I didn't have the space in my brain to: I was too busy panicking about what my life would be like in Ireland with my crazy grandmother and my brother, alone _all summer long_. I hadn't even really been able to consider all aspects of it—only that this summer and next summer would be hell.

Eric stood up beside me and pulled out his wand, holding it at his side as he waited for me to stand up before he escorted me to the door. "I'm sorry, who're you?" Eric sighed, turning to face the man.

"I'm her bodyguard." Eric said quietly, and the man raised his eyebrows before he nodded, opening the door wider, and we walked inside.

And the inside of the court was surprisingly not-that-intimidating.

It was a relatively small room, with two long tables on each side of the entrance—at one table sat my godparents and their lawyer, and then at the other my grandmother and hers. Behind the tables with their chairs were about five seats—containing Mr. Potter, both Louis's dad and the other Mr. Weasley, Professor Longbottom, Headmistress Patil, and Louis's Mum. And then there was a large arm chair in the middle of the room, facing a very tall, closed pew with five seats, at which the five members of the Family Dispute Committee of the Wizengamot were sitting.

I moved to the seat, swallowing as I looked at the adult before me.

"Please state your full name for the Court Secretary." The middle one, a man with graying brown hair said quietly.

"Serafina Elisabetta Finnigan." I said softly.

"And your date of birth?"

"May 9th, 2005." I said softly.

"Are you familiar with the dispute being brought before us today?" The man asked quietly.

"Yes." I murmured.

"So you are aware that your godparents and your grandmother are seeking custody of both you and your brother?" The man asked, and I ducked my head in a nod. "Please speak, Miss Finnigan—the Court Secretary is otherwise unable to accurately document these proceedings."

"Sorry." I said tightly, sitting up straighter. "And yes, I'm aware." I swallowed.

"What kind of relationship do you have with your godparents?" The woman to his left asked me, not a single emotion on her face.

"What do you mean?" I asked her curiously, rubbing my hands together before I ran a worried hand through my hair.

"How long have they been a presence in your life?" She clarified.

"Since—I can remember." I said shakily. "My dad and Dean are _best_ friends." I shrugged a little. "And Monica and my mum—I think—they're friends, even though—" I fell silent. "Even though it turns out Mum was lying about who she was and stuff." I paused. "And their son is one of my best friends."

"How does Wesley Finnigan get along with your godparents?" The woman asked.

"Well." I said softly. The woman seemingly waited for me to say more before she raised her eyebrows.

"Isn't it true that Wesley and you were not speaking to your godparents for two different periods this winter?" The woman asked, and I blushed, nodding a little as I searched her face now: how had she _known_ that? I couldn't remember whether the tabloids had reported it, but I seriously doubted it. "Can you explain each incident?"

"When Wes was attacked by the bludger—Dean and Monica didn't want us to play quidditch anymore and since at that point we didn't have a legal guardian and they're friends with the head of school and my head of house, it was their call." I explained softly. "Wes and I disagreed with that decision." I bit my lip. "And the second time happened when it turned out that there had been a package sent regarding my parents in November only no one told Wes and me." I swallowed, smoothing down the skirt of my dress nervously. I didn't want to lie, but I didn't want to somehow incriminate my godparents. "But the package wasn't—it wasn't vital, you know? It didn't help, or tell anyone anything. It was just sort of—mean." I shrugged a little, sounding juvenile but unable to do anything about it.

The woman nodded, looking at me, before she looked down at a notebook on the desktop before her and scribbled something down. A younger woman to her left looked up at me interestedly. "I'm curious, Serafina." The woman said slowly. "What kind of relationship do you have with your grandmother?" She asked me.

"It's—" I fell silent for a moment, serious considering what I wanted to say. I didn't want to be completely awful: I didn't like my grandmother and I thought she was crazy but I knew my father wouldn't appreciate me ragging on his mother in court, even though she was weirdly elitist and angry. "Strained." There. That was a nice, sort of non-accusatory word.

"How so?" The young woman asked.

"She's very blood status conscious." I said carefully. "I'm not."

"Is Wes?" The woman asked curiously. I frowned, then shook my head.

"No!" I remembered to say the word aloud as the man opened his mouth to remind me again, and he smiled a little sadly at me. "No it's just—"

"Isn't Wes's best friend Elias Landau?" She pushed, and I raised my eyebrows.

"Yes." I said slowly.

"And Elias Landau is the son of Jakob Landau?" The woman pushed, and I frowned—I didn't know what the significance of this was. Eli's dad wasn't famous, in so far as I knew. "And Gregor Landau is a friend of _yours_?" Again, that sounded like an accusation.

"Eli and Wes are best friends, yeah, but Greg and I aren't really friends." I hedged, and the woman raised her eyebrows. "We don't really get along very well."

"So, to reiterate, your brother's best friend is the oldest son of a known death eater and a pureblood, and Wesley _isn't_ status conscious." The woman said skeptically, and I stared at her wordlessly. I really hated this conversation. "And if Wesley is blood status conscious, then he will have less conflict with your grandmother.

"Because someone happens to have a friend who's pureblood doesn't make them elitist." I complained softly. "I _know_ Wes, he's my brother. I promise, he doesn't care." The room fell silent, and I bit my lip unhappily: I didn't like the way this was going. What if our grandmother got custody and it was _my_ fault? "And Eli's—not like that. He's in Gryffindor and he's really nice."

"Serafina, were it simply up to you, who would you go to live with?" The man asked, and I straightened up: I _knew_ this question.

"Dean and Monica." I said quietly. "I don't want to be rude to my grandmother but the one time we've met, we didn't—get along." I swallowed. "She called me a—" I fell silent. "A mudblood."

"When?" The young woman asked.

"At the beginning of break—she came to see Wes and me at Hogwarts." I said softly, and the woman looked slightly disapproving.

"At this time who was your legal guardian?" She asked.

"Professor Longbottom and the Headmistress." I said softly, and the woman raised her eyebrows.

"They didn't do a particularly effective job of protecting you." The woman noted lightly, and I bit my lip, frowning a little. "You were kidnapped when they placed you in the care of Auror Potter and then Wesley was injured when precautions weren't taken to screen his mail." I felt almost panicky: I knew what was going on. They were turning Wes into someone that wouldn't fight with my grandmother and would with my godparents so that they could place Wes and me with her and not with Dean and Monica. I had no idea _why_ this was the case, but it certainly was. "And didn't you miss the opportunity to see your godparents over break because they never came to see you?" She continued.

"I saw them when I was at the Potters…" I said softly. "Mrs. Potter invited them over to dinner and they were there the night I was kidnapped and then Mr. Weasley, the one who's Mr. Potter's best friend, he took me to Dean and Monica's when Wes was attacked so he could have them come to the hospital."

"But they never took it upon themselves to see you." The woman pointed out significantly, and I bit my lip. "And your grandmother did." I tucked a few strands of hair behind my ear.

"Because they thought they weren't supposed to." I said hurriedly. "There was—It was requested I not see either my grandmother or my godparents before the trial so I didn't get biased or something—" I fell silent. "Professor Longbottom told me."

"You weren't supposed to see your grandmother or godparents outside of Hogwarts before the trial." The woman agreed quietly, and I felt my blood run cold. "And as I understand it, you saw only Dean and Monica Thomas preceding this trial outside of Hogwarts." She folded her hands on top of the table. "Not Saraid MacBride." I pretty much stopped breathing, right there. Because Mrs. Potter had invited my godparents over to dinner, because I'd seen them when Wes was attacked—Dean and Monica were going to lose custody. This was _insane_.

"The first time, Dean and Monica were invited to the house I was staying at—isn't that the same concept as Hogwarts?" I swallowed. "And I didn't see my grandmother because she didn't come see Wes in the hospital—Wes nearly _died_ and she didn't come see him in the hospital and you're _commending_ that?" I demanded, my anger at this entire thing finally shining through in my words. "That's crazy. My godparents were there because they were worried about Wes's well-being and my grandmother wasn't even there because she doesn't _care_, and Dean and Monica weren't even thinking about stupid legal things!" I cried angrily. "They were just worried. That was all and I think that's actually _right_, because Wes was in the hospital."

"Didn't Neville Longbottom—the Professor Longbottom who is your legal guardian to date—warn Dean Thomas that his presence at the hospital would ruin his chances of getting custody because it violated an agreement made that neither the Thomases nor your grandmother would see you or your brother before the trial outside of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry?" The woman asked, and I bit my lip. This wasn't fair.

"My grandmother can't get custody." I said finally, looking pleadingly at the other four members of the committee before me. "Please. Maybe she didn't violate that stupid agreement that, by the way, left Wes and me at Hogwarts over break and bored out of our skulls with no friends around. Maybe you can believe that Wes is elitist and might get along with her, even though he isn't, and wouldn't. Maybe we do fight with Dean and Monica sometimes because we disagree with their decisions. None of that makes any difference—Dean and Monica are my godparents. My parents decided that in the event that they were unable to take care of Wes and me, they wanted Dean and Monica because they'd raise us in a way that Mum and Dad would have were they here right now. Not Dad's mum, but Dean and Monica." I swallowed. "And I think what my parents wanted should matter." I bit my lip, and the man who'd first spoken nodded solemnly.

"Alright, Miss Finnigan, thank you for your testimony." He said quietly. "You may step down." I nodded, standing up and ducking my head as I passed the tables again, avoiding everyone's gaze on purpose. This was embarrassing. I just wanted my godparents to get custody so this could be over. This had to be over soon.

Eric closed the door behind him, and led me over to a chair, and I couldn't do anything but obey: I knew what was going to happen now. My godparents looked like we clashed with them a lot, like Wes's apparently 'elitist' attitude would clash with them. My godparents had violated the agreement made by the court. "My grandmother's going to get custody." I breathed, tears in my eyes as I looked up at Eric, who sighed heavily, pushing me into the seat. "This is a disaster." I whispered, and Eric sat down beside me, grasping his hands down on the lap in front of me. "That woman's a monster. She won't let me see Jamie or Louis over the summer. She won't let Wes see Selma--" I cut myself off, covering my face with my hands. "This is awful." I squeaked out. "I don't know what I'm going to do." I whispered. I leaned back in my chair, my hands sliding up my forehead so my fingers tangled into my hair.

"You'll be fine," Eric assured me quietly. "Wes will be with you." He reminded me, and I nodded a little, dropping my hands limply into my lap.

"This wouldn't have happened if Wes was able to testify." I murmured, staring forward, at the wall in front of me, slightly to the right of the double doors that led to the courtroom we'd just left. "And Wes would be able to testify if he'd not been attacked and he wouldn't have been _attacked,"_ I paused for breath, and Eric shot me a worried sideways glance. "And he shouldn't have been attacked. _I_ should have been--"

"Sera, stop it." Eric said quietly, the first words he'd ever said directly to me. I looked at him. "You think anyone would be better about _you_ being attacked? Wes at least stood a better chance at surviving--he's bigger and stronger. You're a squirt." He sighed. "What about James and Louis? D'you think they'd be alright with you getting attacked?" Eric raised his eyebrows as I considered this.

I looked back down at the skirt of my dress, the only part visible under Louis's sweatshirt. "Mr. Potter said we could leave after I testified, right?" I asked softly, and I saw Eric dip his head once in a nod in my peripheral vision. "I want to see Wes." I said tightly, and Eric sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair before he nodded again. I looked up at him worriedly. "Thanks." I said softly, and he took a deep breath, then smiled a little.

"C'mon." He told me quietly, and we both stood up. I followed him down the hallway, forcing myself to take deep breaths and calming down. I could do this--I was stronger than screwed up custody trials. Definitely.

Y'know. Maybe.

---

Thirty minutes later I was slamming open the door to Wes's hospital room, grinning hugely as I rocketed onto the bed and hugged him tightly, appreciating the small laugh behind me from Eric Davies. "Hey kiddo," Wes said with a big grin, catching me easily and laughing quietly. "God I haven't seen you in so long!" He said, smoothing down my hair as I clung to him tightly. "And--who're you?" Wes asked defensively of Eric, his arms strengthening around me.

"Sera's bodyguard." Eric said quietly. "We've actually met before--I'm Eric Davies." Eric acknowledged quietly. Wes relaxed a little, releasing me only to hold me out at arm's length.

"Hi Eric," Wes said briefly, looking me over carefully. He grinned a little. "I see you weaseled Louis's sweatshirt out of him again." I giggled a little, shaking my head as I pulled the sleeves over my thumbs a little.

"He lent it to me today." I told him brightly, and Wes nodded, looking very self-satisfied.

"So how was the custody trial?" Wes asked, and my face fell: Wes frowned worriedly, scooching over on the bed to make some room for me. I bit my lip.

"It was awful." I told him softly. "The woman asked all these questions and was obviously already siding with grandma and she accused you of being blood-status conscious and I tried to tell her that it wasn't true but it didn't really work. And she was mad that Dean and Monica were here with you because there'd been an agreement that neither them nor Dad's Mum would be with us." I bit my lip. "I'm sorry. I tried really hard." I bit my lip. "I gave this entire thing at the end where I said that none of the other crap mattered, all that mattered was that Mum and Dad wanted us to be with Dean and Monica if they couldn't be with us. Not Dad's mum--but Wes--she _hates_ me." I dropped my head. "She wanted me to apologize and told me she didn't like Louis's sweatshirt." I looked down at the blanket.

"And you said..."

"That I had nothing to apologize for." I told him. "But she hates me. And if she gets custody she'll eat me alive." I paused. "And she won't let me see James or Louis." I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat. "All summer." I looked up at my brother. "I'm really sorry."

"Not your fault." Wes sighed tiredly. I looked at him doubtfully. "Hey, you know it's not your fault." Wes said sternly, looking at me frankly. "You're smarter than that." I frowned at him, then rolled my eyes, lightly shoving him back: he chuckled, taking it easily. "So no decision yet, I guess?" He asked.

"Yeah." I agreed. "No decision." I sighed. "It'll probably happen today, though." I paused. "I really want Dean and Monica to get us."

"We'll be fine either way." Wes maintained optimistically, and I shot him a look. "Kid, everything here is temporary--I turn seventeen when you're thirteen, okay? You're eleven now, almost twelve--not that far in the future. And when I'm seventeen, I'm a legal adult and I'll get custody of you." Wes said this flippantly, as if this was just as easy as that. One day, not too far in the future, everything would be okay.

But I knew better.

Wes would be seventeen--hardly able to raise a kid. And if my godparents got custody--I knew Dean and Monica would be reluctant to give me up to Wes's custody if only because they didn't want his inexperience at being a single parent hurting me. And my grandmother would rather stab herself in the heart than ever demonstrate, somehow, that she was surrendering or something--and I knew that's how she would view that. Also, you couldn't just hand over custody of a kid easy-as-pie: a court would have to demonstrate that Wes was responsible enough to be my legal guardian, or at least I was pretty sure that had to happen.

"I'm going to take Sera to get something to eat, if that's alright." Eric said quietly behind me, and I turned to frown a little at him. He just met my gaze evenly. "You didn't have breakfast," He pointed out, and I winced, looking back at Wes who just fixed me with an irritated look.

"Sera, go eat!" Wes ordered.

"But I want to stay..." I said softly, and some of the strictness left my brother's face as I stared at him forlornly.

"Yeah, and I want to continue to have a little sister." Wes retorted. "And that doesn't happen unless you eat."

"Fine." I sighed, rolling my eyes as I got up, but as I turned away from Wes, I grinned. It was nice seeing my big brother. Even if he did make me eat food.

Silly Wes.

---

The second I saw Monica with tears in her eyes, I knew it was all over.

It was seven PM, and I'd been waiting with Wes all day, talking with him. I told him how Selma was, and he had five million questions: he'd also been really pleased when he'd found out that Selma asked about him the first day back, that she'd been worried. Eric was making friends with Wes's bodyguard (who stood outside his door all day, silently: apparently the weird stoic, silent thing was indeed something ingrained into the auror department's trainees), and Wes and I were in the middle of a tournament of hangman. And then my godmother, teary-eyed and apologetic, and my godfather, looking shell-shocked, walked in. Closely followed by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Potter's best friend Mr. Weasley, Mr. and Mrs. Potter, the Headmistress, and Professor Longbottom. And my grandmother.

"I gained custody of you both, as expected." She began tightly, and I closed my eyes, turning my face away from my grandmother. There weren't even tears in my eyes, I was just... this was over, now. "There are some new rules that will be imposed that will be discussed via letters in a more private environment." I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, letting my hair fall around my face. "But so you know, Serafina will no longer be allowed to participate in the Gryffindor Quidditch team." I covered my face with my hands. "Also, there will be no more breaks spent at friends' houses." She pointed out.

"Ms. MacBride, Serafina's very good at quidditch." Professor Longbottom began, stepping forward. "That might be a little--"

"I don't need advice, _Neville_." The woman's voice was searing, and I looked up at Longbottom, my eyes wide.

"You're just banning... Sera?" Wes asked, sitting straight up in bed, sounding angrier than I'd ever heard him. "Come on, she loves--"

"Wesley, be _quiet_." My grandmother shot out, her eyes narrowing.

"You can't just--"

"I have revoked the permission to allow Serafina to play quidditch." My grandmother said angrily her eyes flashing as she glared down at my brother. "It's done. Do not make me revoke yours as well." I swallowed, shaking my head at Wes. My brother glanced at me, scowling darkly, but fell back against his pillows tiredly. There was a pause, and I tried to relax, looking up at the woman in front of me. "Serafina, I will allow you to return to Hogwarts now." She said carefully. I nodded, standing up a little, and Eric pushed through the adults. My grandmother held up a hand. "Without a bodyguard. I decline the offer of protection." She said firmly.

"What if she's attacked?" Wes demanded. "She's eleven, she can't defend herself--"

"I'm not responsible for the quality of her education." My grandmother told my brother. My brother just gaped at her, because--she _was_. She was my legal guardian. That automatically made her responsible for every aspect of me. That was how that worked.

My grandmother looked at me, beckoning me forward. "Serafina, Professor Longbottom and Headmistress Patil will take you back to Hogwarts now." I stood up and crossed reluctantly to her, and she put a tight hand on my shoulder. "I expect a report once a week on how your year is going." I nodded unhappily. "_Speak _to your elders, Serafina."

"I will." I agreed sullenly.

"Then I will see you at the beginning of summer break." She pushed me towards Professor Longbottom, and I caught myself, crossing my arms tightly across my chest. "Wesley, you will be transported to Hogwarts on Saturday." She turned and walked out, and I just stared after her until the door of Wes's room shut behind her.

"I'm going to kill her." Wes hissed in the otherwise silent room.

"Not if I get a go at her first." I murmured, and I saw the shocked looks I received. "It's not like my education's bad--I'm a freaking _first _year. First years aren't supposed to know anything _anyway_." I sighed heavily. "And I like quidditch."

"Harry, there's got to be something that you--" Dean began, sounding desperate, but Professor Longbottom turned to him.

"Don't start in on Harry." Longbottom growled at Dean angrily, and Dean scowled darkly. "You--I _told_ you, when Wes was attacked, that they'd use this against you! You made an agreement so that you could prove to the court that you could be the adult who could handle the visitation hours—and you just proved the opposite!" Longbottom glared angrily at Dean. "You had to know this would happen. _I_ knew this would happen." Longbottom shook his head, looking like he was about to start yelling again, but the Headmistress grabbed his arm in a vice-like grip.

"Neville, we're taking Serafina back to Hogwarts now." Headmistress Patil said icily. "This is neither the time nor the place to talk to Dean about his failings in this case." Longbottom rolled his eyes but turned away from Dean. Patil nodded once at Longbottom and then looked down at me. "Say goodbye to Wesley and then we'll leave." I turned back to my brother, walking back to the side of the bed and hugging him tightly. He released me a minute later and ruffled my hair.

"You'll be good, right?" Wes asked, and I nodded. "And you'll give Louis back his sweatshirt?" He asked with a grin, and I smiled weakly back at him, not answering. "Okay, go on back to school, kiddo." He said tiredly, and I nodded, falling back a few steps towards my teachers and my godparents and my friends' parents. The Headmistress was looking at Dean and Monica angrily, but Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley were looking at me.

"Sera, I'm sorry." Mr. Potter told me quietly.

"We'll be fine." I said with a false smile. "Wes turns seventeen in a year and like, ten months." I shrugged a little and Mr. Potter raised his eyebrows, watching us. "We had a backup plan." I explained quietly, glancing down.

"You're going to take custody at seventeen?" The Headmistress asked Wes doubtfully, and we all turned to look at my hospital-bound brother. He shrugged, then nodded.

"I can't leave her with Dad's Mum." Wes said quietly, shaking his head once. "We've only met her twice now and she's actually the meanest woman alive and hates Sera." He shrugged a little. "What choice would I have?"

"You might not even get custody." My godfather said quietly. "We just proved how hard it can be to get it."

"I'm her brother." Wes said tiredly, running a hand through his hair. "Anything that Dad's Mum has on you because you're just our godparents--that stops with me." Wes shrugged a little. "And she'll have done something stupid enough by then to get me able to get custody." He looked at me.

"That's really brave, Wesley." Mr. Weasley said quietly.

"She's my baby sister." Wes said tiredly. "I'm not leaving her with an emotionally abusive grandmother." He sighed heavily.

"Time to go." Patil said quietly, putting her hand on my shoulder and leading me out the door. "Feel Better, Wesley." She said quietly, and Longbottom followed us. Patil led us down the hall, past the waiting room I'd practically lived in last weekend, before turning into a large room with three big fireplaces. She took a hand full of floo powder and stepped inside the fireplace with me. She threw it at our feet as Longbottom stepped into the fireplace beside ours. "Headmistress's office, Hogwarts." She said firmly, and I squeezed my eyes shut as we spun upwards and around, before dropping into her office. She grabbed my wrist and tugged me deeper into her office as Longbottom fell into the fireplace almost immediately after us. "You may go, Sera." She said quietly to me, and I nodded, pulling away from her and walking across the now-familiar office before stepping into the entrance passage. The platform spun down and I stepped off, and then ten minutes later I was clambering through the portrait hole into the Common Room.

I spotted Louis by the fire, sitting across from Rory as they compared homework or something, but I passed them, crossing the common room and going up the boys' dormitory staircase. I stopped at the second-year rooms, knocking fast and quick—I felt jittery, like I'd just drunk a coffee, or something. Gerard opened the door and glared at me for a second before he just opened the door wider to let me in, turning and going back to his bed. I walked in and my gaze flicked to Alec as I bit my lip. "Did Mum and Dad…?" He asked anxiously.

"Saraid MacBride is my legal guardian." I said shakily, and he fell silent, gaping at me. We just stood there, staring at each other, for almost an entire minute before Alec shook his head, finally summoning the words to react.

"Shit."


	28. Lust For Life

Things I could be doing instead of writing this chapter: my homework, my history outline, my history bibliography, my English project, having a life…

:]

But as it turns out, I'm an insomniac. So I won't get to sleep till about two AM anyway. So I might as well postpone my work to please my lovely readers.

Xoxo

. clumsy . carrie .

---

Chapter 28

I sighed as I slammed shut my History of Magic book, looking up at Louis across his bed in irritation. We were taking notes on the reading, which was not something I ever did—but apparently that was what super-student Louis Weasley did while Jamie and I were at quidditch practice. Unfortunately, I was in a special type of hell reserved the grandchildren of elitist old women who hated their grandchildren, and I couldn't play quidditch. And normally I would hang out with Edie or Rory if James and Louis were both unavailable. But Edie was with Bethany, who I hated. And Rory was trying out for the quidditch team. For the spot I had recently vacated.

It had been only six days since the Custody trial, and I had been pointedly ignoring my grandmother: I hadn't written to her yet with that weekly update crap, mostly because I actually couldn't fathom what I would say. She didn't care about how my week was going—she didn't even care about me. She just couldn't accept that MacBrides weren't, in fact, superhuman. And I wasn't even a MacBride. I was a Finnigan.

"This is stupid!" I told him tiredly, pushing my hair out of my face carelessly. "No one _cares_ about how Helena Harrington was actually behind the attacks and not a werewolf because she was crazy—" I cut myself off, sighing dramatically as I dropped the notebook I'd been taking notes in on top of the textbook on his bed. "And I mean—having a woman be insane, and having that be the reason—that's not very interesting! There's no freaking _motive _just bad brain stuff—God, do I hate this _stupid subject!_" I fell silent after that, and Louis simply watched me with his eyebrows raised.

"You're in a bad mood." He noted quietly. He folded his notebook neatly shut and looked up at me.

"I am _not_," I muttered rebelliously. Louis just looked at me for a minute before I sagged a little. "Okay, maybe a little." I hedged, and Louis smothered a smile: I narrowed my eyes at him. "It's just…" I sighed. "It's Wednesday." Louis seemed to wait for more explanation, and when none came, he sighed again.

"Did Wednesday hurt you?" He asked in an exceedingly patient voice, and I bit my lip in an unsuccessful attempt to stop the small smile that surged to my mouth. He grinned back at me.

"No…" I dragged out the syllable reluctantly. "I just…" I sighed heavily, looking up at Louis worriedly. "You can't tell Jamie or Rory, because James would do something stupid like quit to make me feel less bad, and Rory would feel guilty about trying out for my spot on the team." I said quickly, my tongue almost tripping over the words, and I pulled a face. "I'm jealous." I winced at the words: I hated being jealous. Especially of James—because Jamie was my best friend. I shouldn't have been jealous. He deserved to be on the quidditch team. "I mean, I—just miss quidditch. And it's been like two minutes." I sighed. "But Jamie deserves quidditch and so does Rory." I bit my lip, looking tiredly at Louis. "So you can't tell them I really hate that they're on quidditch and I'm not. Because that's a nasty way to feel." I shook my head.

"You're a human being." Louis said slowly to me. "You're allowed to be jealous." I rolled my eyes. "Seriously, Sera—this sucks. If you feel bad that you're not on the quidditch team and stuff, then you're a normal person." Louis grinned a little. "C'mon. You've felt jealous before." I raised my eyebrows, and Louis nodded skeptically. "You've got an older sibling. There's no way that you grow up without an ounce of jealousy." I nodded reluctantly: I'd been jealous of Wes for exactly one thing while we were growing up, and now I felt guilty about it.

I'd used to think that Mum and Dad loved Wes more, or something. Or maybe just understood him better—Wes wasn't a goody goody exactly, but he was easy to understand. I wasn't your usual kid, and I knew that. And I also _now_ knew that my parents loved Wes and me equally. But I felt like crap for ever thinking anything bad about my parents.

"I used to think my parents liked Wes more," I said in an odd voice, and Louis' eyes widened a little. "I just—was the difficult kid, you know? Wes was predictable and played sports and people liked him and he's kind of…average." I sighed, shrugging a little. "I only had a couple friends back at my muggle school and I wasn't very good at controlling my magic when I was younger…" I shrugged a little, blushing. "I'm rambling. Sorry." I ducked my head.

"No, I get it." Louis said quietly. "Domi and me used to fight a lot before she got hurt—" The Weasley clan euphemism for Domi's brain injury, "I don't even really remember, because I was three, you know?" He shrugged a little, glancing at me to see if I was listening, and I was: Louis didn't mention Domi a lot. "But Vick told me and we've got some family stories that involve Domi pinching me and me pulling her hair or something—" He cut himself off, shrugging. "I used to feel bad about it, just because it turned out she was only going to be really there for a couple of years," He smiled a little. "But we were little kids, Sera. Little kids fight for the stupidest reasons." He shook his head. "You can't blame yourself for something that happened a while ago. You're not the same person. " He looked at me seriously. "You should get over it."

I was going to respond, but the door burst open with Neil, Rory, and James, and I sighed heavily, looking at the boys with a big, fake smile. "How'd tryouts go?" I asked, shooting Louis a warning look.

"I'm not going to get it." Rory said flatly to me. "But it was still fun." I nodded once, glancing for only a minute at James before I looked backed at Rore.

"Who else tried out?" I asked faux-cheerfully.

"Gerard DuEfee from second year, Forrester Kimes from fifth year, Callie McAndrews from fifth year…" Rory listed, before dumping his things on top of his trunk and flopping down on the bed. "Luke Hornet from second year." He continued. "Marta von Muffling from third year…" He grinned. "She was _really_ bad." I grinned back at him, taking comforting from that. "Deborah Celotta from seventh year tried out too." He shrugged. "I think she's going to get it."

"You think a _seventh_ year is gonna get my spot?" I clarified, straightening suddenly.

"Yeah." James said with a sly smile for me, and I grinned outright at him. A seventh year was graduating in June—which meant my spot would be available again next year. Not that I'd necessarily be able to _take_ my spot back next year, but it was still comforting to think that it might be there.

"That would be the best." I said excitedly, bouncing up as Jamie pulled his quidditch robes over his head and dumped the cloth into his trunk. Then I realized what I'd said. "Not that I don't want you to get on the quidditch team, Rore," I said hurriedly, looking at him worriedly, and he sat up to grin at me.

"It's fine, Ser." He said genuinely. "That's your spot, I understand."

"Thanks." I said honestly, before I glanced up at the clock on the wall: it was ten o'clock. "Ugh. I should really go downstairs and get some work done…" I said ruefully, and I looked at Louis gratefully. "Thanks for the help with the History of Magic stuff." I told him as I stood up, grabbing my books. "I'll see you guys tomorrow, okay?" I glanced at Jamie, who nodded a little.

I left the room, closing the door behind me and feeling guilty. I was avoiding James. I didn't want to be avoiding James—but I felt so guilty about being jealous that I just kind of was.

Ugh. I hated this.

---

"Alright, settle down, settle down." Professor Hudome said as she entered the classroom, looking frazzled. Her black hair was all over the place and frizzy, like it always was, and she was stick skinny with kind of translucent, papery skin. Her gray eyes were framed with some of the clumpiest mascara that the world had ever seen and she was wearing a black-and-white polka-dotted dress that looked really out of place on her. She always spoke perfect English without an accent, but she was always using French phrases: a favorite of hers was _berk!_ It meant yuck. And she was constantly using it on our potions.

"Flip to page 478 in your textbook then one person from each table will come up to the front and get the materials," Professor Hudome said in a rushed voice, dropping her books on the table with a clang.

"I'm not going up there." Daisy said under her breath, and I turned my head to glare at my potions partner. She met my gaze with a glare, her eyes narrowed.

"Neither am I." I muttered, frowning at her.

"Yeah, you are," Daisy hissed, leaning forward a little, and I rolled my eyes.

"Go get the stupid materials, Daisy." I told her, looking back at my book and flipping to the right page. "You're closer anyway."

"No. I'm not going." I blinked, looking up at her, before I sighed heavily. I didn't like Daisy, I didn't want to lose this fight, but I couldn't get a bad grade in Potions because of her. That's what she wanted.

"Alright." I said heavily, pushing myself to my feet and slipping behind Daisy's chair: she slid it back as I was behind her, banging the part of the stool that you could rest your feet on against my shin, and I just pinched her shoulder. She winced, glaring up at me as I slid past her and got in line with the rest of the class.

"Professor Hudome!" Daisy said earnestly, her hand shooting into the air. I turned to face her, an expression of utter disbelief on my face. "Sera pinched me!"

I just stared at her, my jaw setting. I didn't tattle, as a rule—involving adults was always dramatic. But Daisy was wrong. And this wasn't like that time with Longbottom when no one had actually seen me do anything, and I had war wounds. This time, I would get in trouble because pinches showed and getting hit by a chair didn't.

"I did not." I said haughtily, turning to Professor Hudome, scowling.

"Liar!" Daisy insisted. And she was right. But I wasn't going to tell. "See, my shoulder? It's red right here? She pinched it!"

"That looks more like a pimple to me." I said innocently, looking at Daisy.

"Miss Finnigan, Miss Auden, if you can't stop this behavior immediately I'm going to deduct points." Professor Hudome hissed at us, and Daisy and I fell silent immediately. I turned away from Daisy, pushing some of my hair back in an effort to not look like I was sulking. Neil, who was in line in front of me, shot me a sympathetic smile as we reached the front of the line.

"Ignore her." He advised, glancing back at me.

"Easier said than done." I told him, pursing my lips a little, and he chuckled.

"I'll switch with you…?" He offered unhappily, and I smiled at him genuinely as he grabbed what he needed and stepped to the side. Neil was too nice.

"It's okay." I assured him. "You and Collin are too smart for me anyway." I grinned as he did, and patted his arm, turning back to the isle and walking carefully back to my table. I held my breath as I passed behind Daisy's chair again, but she didn't push back again, and I glanced sideways at her as I put the materials on the countertop, glancing down at my book.

"Now that _that's_ over," Professor Hudome said, throwing Daisy and I an angry look. "We'll be making a mood-monitoring potion today." She looked at us seriously for a moment. "Listen up, guys—while this stuff won't hurt you, it does have an unfortunate side-effect. You'll notice that it changes colors while you're making it—if it gets on your clothes, it will dye it. And it will change colors in the time that it's dyed. For at least a few months—so do not touch your hair, don't touch your robes, etc." I nodded a little. "It comes off skin but won't come off hair." She reiterated. "So be careful." We all nodded our assent.

"So, first we put in water, right?" She asked me, and I looked at her warily: she was sounding too helpful.

"Yeah." I said carefully. "Two cups of it, I think." I continued when she didn't jump in with some rude comment. She nodded, smiling at me, and I blinked, then immediately grew suspicious. Daisy was plotting. And Daisy was smart enough that her plotting kind of sucked big time.

Daisy turned on the faucet between us, filling one of her measuring cups with water and then dumping it her cauldron, before repeating the process. I did the same thing once she was done, before looking back at my book. I picked up a packet of powdered harpy toenails, wincing at how gross the concept of that was before I measured out a tablespoon of the stuff. Daisy worked by herself too, both of us in silence. I glanced up every once and a while, trying to pin down why the hell she wasn't plotting my downfall or trying to mess up my potion or something.

I turned on the burner beneath the cauldron, stirring it slowly to keep it from heating only the bottom part of the cauldron, and met Neil's gaze across the room, having seen him staring at Daisy's now-silent form. I widened my eyes a little, and Neil nodded: this was as weird as I thought it was.

"You all are taking too long!" Professor Hudome shrieked dramatically and completely out-of-the-blue, making the entire class jump. "I must see how it is going." She stood up and sort of rushed around her desk to the first row, where Collin and Neil were sitting. "_Berk_!" She exclaimed, shaking her head as if the presence of the potion was deeply upsetting. "This is _awful_! What are you even—my god!" She smacked her forehead. "I have failed." She declared soberly, straightening up. She moved to the next table, inspecting Horace Penniweather's and Finley McAndrews' cauldrons. "I have not taught you anything!" She exclaimed as she looked at Finley's. "This is a black pot that sucks all joy and knowledge into it!" _What_ was this woman talking about? "An orifice, a black hole—not a _potion_! A black hole of _knowledge._" She sounded like she thought that this was a very meaningful thought: I just thought she might be a little bit trippy. She moved on to Daisy's and my table, and I braced myself for more tragic thoughts. "Oh, thank Merlin." Professor Hudome said in a reverent voice, and I glanced up at her, surprised. "There are children here retaining knowledge." She shook her head, pressing her hands together. "Thank Helga, Rowena, Godric and Salazar." She closed her eyes, like she was praying, and for once on the same team, Daisy and I glanced at each other. _What's going on_? I mouthed to Daisy, who shrugged a little, before we both looked back at our teacher. Professor Hudome opened her eyes, looking at us solemnly. "You have followed the directions." She told us in a measured tone. "And this potion is exactly as it should be." She nodded once more, moving on, and Daisy turned to me, grinning. Her hand swept across the table, accidentally knocking my book to the floor, and I bent down to pick it up.

And then felt a cauldron empty itself on me.

I froze, my hand out-stretched towards my book on the floor, feeling the goopy substance soak through my robes, into my hair, seeping around my neck and onto my face, down my legs and arms. I sat up slowly, the gears in my head turning now. I understood. Daisy had started being nice so I wouldn't immediately suspect her knocking my book to the ground as a trick. And she'd waited to hear that our potions were good so that she could pour it on my head and get the intended side effects. The dyed hair, the dyed robes.

There was silence in the classroom as everyone stared at me wordlessly, holding their berath to see how I was going to react. Even Professor Hudome had stopped her ranting. Daisy was wide-eyed innocent, but I saw the glint in her eyes: this had been the plan. "Oops." She said as a ghost of a grin flitted across her face.

And, I swear to god, I wouldn't have done what I did next had I had _any_ other kind of year. But the past year, Daisy had been a jerk and my parents were missing and my brother was trying to convince me I actually liked my best friend and Gallagher and Landau were obnoxious as hell. And so I kind of lost my mind.

I carefully wiped off around my eyes, then around my mouth, and then my nose, before I took a deep breath and reached for my own cauldron. No one said anything as I lifted it, and I like to think that this was because they knew what I was about to do and they knew that Daisy completely and utterly deserved this. And then, with a self-satisfied grin, I dumped the entire contents of the cauldron right over Daisy's brunette head.

I have never been more pleased with myself.

I watched her face go from shock to horror to sheer anger, and I grinned as the last of the potion spilled out, and I carefully settled the cauldron back down on the table. Neil was looking caught between horrified and amused, Collin was just sort of gaping at us, and the two Hufflepuff boys in front of us looked delighted. I saw Bethany, across the classroom, just gaping at us, and I wondered distantly whether there was going to be some sort of roommate civil war with Edie and me fighting with Daisy and Bethany.

And then Daisy began to scream bloody murder, rudely shaking me out of my thoughts.

"My hair!" She screeched, lifting a goop-covered hand to touch her soaked brown hair. "My hair is _ruined_! And these—" She picked at her robes for emphasis, "these robes are _brand new_!" She gaped at me, obviously more stunned that I'd reacted so effectively than angry. "You've _ruined_ them!"

"Bummer." I agreed with a grin, wiping off some of the goop from my forehead and then wiping it on the table. I paused, then drew a smiley-face in it. Then grinned: I was already trouble. Defacing a potions table wasn't going to hurt me much more. As if to emphasize this, the smiley-face that I'd just drawn on the table began to change colors rapidly, then paused at yellow, so it looked like an emoticon that I'd seen my muggle friends use in text messages.

"_Berk!"_ Professor Hudome finally screeched, obviously regaining her ability to speak after several moments of muteness. "I am—disgusted! You children are so—ah!" She cut off into a wordless screech, and the Hufflepuff kids in front of Daisy and me looked back at us appreciatively. It wasn't exactly a competition, but it was always pretty well known who had last made Professor Hudome flip out, and evidently, it was us. "My students have lost their minds!" Our teacher cried, her fingers tangling in her own hair for a moment before she rushed back to our table. "Miss Finnigan, Miss Auden—just—ah, just go to Professor Longbottom's office—you Gryffindors would do Godric's name to shame!" She cried to us frantically. "To shame!" She let this sit for a second, before she grabbed the back of Daisy's robes and mine, lifting us from our seats and leading us to the door of the potions' room. "To _shame_!" She scolded once more as she pushed us outside, leaving Daisy and I both to catch ourselves on the opposite wall of the hallway before we spun around to face the crazy lady. This was ridiculous: this woman was obviously like, off her meds, or something. "Away, devil children!" She cried to us, then slammed the door shut heavily and we heard the locking spell uttered on the other side.

Daisy and I just stood outside, staring at the large wooden door. "She's crazy." I murmured.

"Yep." Daisy agreed demurely, and I pulled my wand out of my pocket, dipped the tip of it in the potion on my robes, and then tapped the door. And the door was suddenly changing colors just like the rest of me and Daisy. "What the—Sera!" Daisy cried, smacking my hand. "You're gonna get expelled!" She cried, and I snorted, shaking my head. "You're an insane person!"

"Nah." I said heavily. "Just a little batty." Daisy looked thoroughly alarmed, and I wondered whether she thought I was an actual psychopath. "And you started this." I reminded her after a second: a blotchy blush worked up her face, staining parts of it pink and red. "So if I'm getting expelled, you're getting expelled and banned from school grounds." Daisy gaped at me, her eyes narrowing as she considered the seriousness of my threat.

"You don't tattle." She pointed out after a second, but even she didn't sound convinced, so it barely took a smirk to watch her face fall.

"Not usually, but I feel like this is a special circumstance." I said snarkily to her, gesturing to my robes. Daisy stared at me.

"Are they just—ugh, c'mon." She muttered, grabbing the (soaked) sleeve of my robe and dragging me upstairs.

I was extremely glad for the fact that this was the last class of the day and thus a double class for everyone: that meant that I didn't have to stress about people seeing me like this. Though at this rate, it wasn't like anyone was going to miss it. From Professor Hudome's description, my hair was going to be covered in this stuff for some time.

We stopped in front of Professor Longbottom's door, and Daisy wiped her hand off on the bottom of her robe before knocking. Professor Longbottom opened the door, than blinked. "Miss Auden, Miss Finnigan." He said after a moment. "What in the name of Merlin are you covered in?" He demanded.

"Mood Monitoring Potion." I said cheerfully with a grin. "Daisy poured it on my head and then I thought it was just _such_ a good idea—"

"When _I_ did it, it was an accident!" She cried angrily.

"You _poured _potion on one another?" Longbottom asked incredulously.

"She also put it on the door of the Potions' room." She muttered, shooting me an angry glance, and Longbottom gaped at us. "And on the table—"

"Sera—" Longbottom said in a tired voice, and I crossed my arms, looking up at him stubbornly. He sighed, before he spoke again. "Headmistress' office, go." Longbottom ordered, pointing in the direction of the office, and I just dropped my head, turning and walking after Daisy towards Patil's office, Longbottom following close behind. We walked in a tense silence, and it occurred to me, suddenly, how _not_ funny my grandmother was going to find this. If she thought I was the Devil's Spawn without my having done something wrong—well, I was going to be the Devil himself when I did.

We turned down another hallway and reached the door to the headmistress's office: Longbottom gestured for Daisy to get on the transport first. "Miss Auden, please get on first and take care not to touch anything." Longbottom said heavily. Daisy turned to him unhappily.

"Can I please be scourgified or _something_?" She asked desperately, and Longbottom reached for his wand and tapped her, the potion disappearing. She smiled a little, seeming pleased, but when she looked down, she realized the robes and hair were still Technicolor, and she just stepped onto the transport. He tapped my head, and I felt the goop move from me as well, and then I followed Daisy onto the transport. Professor Longbottom followed us on, and we rotated upwards, as I guiltily avoided Longbottom's gaze all the while. The door opened and Longbottom got off first, opening the door without introduction.

"Neville." The Headmistress said quietly in greeting, nodding a little to our teacher, and Longbottom just shook his head, turning to that the woman could see Daisy and me trail in after him.

Now, to Headmistress Patil's credit, her reaction was _very_ professional. More professional than I would have expected. Because, truly, we looked ridiculous. Our hair and robes changed color.

"Would someone care to tell me what's happened?" She asked in a careful voice, and I just held her gaze evenly. Daisy and I were silent for a moment before Daisy launched in, predictably.

"She _dumped_ her potion on my head _on purpose_." Daisy said accusatorily, glancing at me with narrowed eyes before looking back at our headmistress. Patil looked at me expectantly, and I bit my lip.

I didn't tattle.

Not usually. Unless it had been blatant and cruel and nonsense like that—I just didn't like the feeling I got mid-tattle. I felt like a little kid that needed defending or something. And I knew that I got at least a little more respect from Alec and Wes for it—and I knew James respected it in theory despite the fact that he hated seeing me get in trouble for anything.

So I kept quiet.

"It appears that some got on you, too." Patil said carefully when it became evident that I wasn't going to be chatting with her soon enough.

"It does seem that way." I said regretfully, looking down at my clothes. "Of course, my hand slipped when I was lifting my potion. Anything that occurred was accidental." I met Patil's gaze levelly, and my headmistress just looked down at me piercingly.

"It was not!" Daisy protested loudly. "She dyed the door and the table too—" I didn't even retort: no one _accidentally_ drew a smiley face on the potions table in potion. That didn't even make any sense. How would that work? So I just remained silent.

"Miss Auden, Miss Finnigan, you both receive five days worth of detention, starting tomorrow." She said after a moment, glaring darkly at us. "And I will be notifying your parents or legal guardians." She paused, looking us over one more time. "You should return to your common room now and change." She looked away from us, turning to walk back around her desk.

"Sera, stay for a moment." Longbottom ordered quietly as Daisy and I made to get back to the transport. Daisy made a face at me as she stepped on the transport, and I stuck my tongue out at her as the door closed, so I got the last word. I turned to Longbottom and he gestured for me to sit in one of the chairs in front of Patil's desk as he walked around the desk. Even Headmistress Patil was watching me solemnly.

"What's wrong?" I asked wearily.

"Nothing's wrong, not really." Longbottom said carefully, looking like he was picking his words with great care. "I'm just concerned, Sera, that getting in trouble today was an indicator of something larger." I waited for him to continue as he put both hands on the desk and leaned forward a little. "I know you don't much like your grandmother and thus feel like you don't have to answer to her but just because she isn't your parent doesn't mean that she has any less authority. She will get your report card, she will be notified of any mischief—" He paused. "You still have someone to answer to."

I stared at my teachers. "I don't really understand." I said carefully. "Of course I have to answer to my grandmother." I paused. "She's my legal guardian. That what being a legal guardian is, primarily." I swallowed, glancing between the two teachers in front of me. "I don't like her, so I don't much care what she _says_ but I know that I have to answer to her all the same." The teachers didn't look reassured, but I stayed silent: the ball was in their court, now.

"Yes, I understand that." Patil said quietly, jumping in. "But there's some concern that if you don't care what she says to you and detention is obviously no deterrent, as demonstrated by your lack of care on this matter and the detention received for involvement with a fight with Mr. Gallagher of Slytherin, you will become unruly. Permanently." I let these words settle for a second before I frowned.

"You think I'm going to become a bad kid because I don't like my grandmother." I clarified, and Longbottom nodded a little.

"Not exactly that, but yes." He hedged, and I blinked. "More that we're worried—us, Bill and Fleur, Harry and Ginny—that you'll not have anyone to answer to and you'll become a bad kid by accident. You'll fall through the cracks." Longbottom looked genuinely concerned for a beat. "Your parents would kill me if I let you do that, Sera."

"You know I've got godparents and a judgy big brother and friends and stuff, right?" I asked after a second, frowning. "I don't care about what my grandmother does to me to punish me or something, but I know that Wes is going to be mad or disappointed or whatever and Jamie's going to be all stressed and Edie's going to freak out because Daisy and I live in the same room and don't get along at _all_. And aside from that, if Dean and Monica hear about this, I'm going to get a howler or something, I dunno." I shrugged a little. "I don't care about her, but I don't…_not_ care." I said carefully.

"That's good." Longbottom said after a moment, and then he smiled, relieved. "That's actually really mature of you, Sera." I shrugged a little, nervous now, and he waved me off, obviously realizing that this conversation had made me uncomfortable. Headmistress Patil seemed less satisfied and was still studying me intensely. "You can go. I'd expect a letter from your grandmother either tonight or tomorrow morning." I winced.

"D'you remember if she was one of those people who sends howlers or if she sent like, disappointed letters?" I asked after a second, my voice fast as I looked back at him, and he snorted in amusement. I wasn't sure which one would be better or worse, at this rate. Howlers were humiliating. But disappointed letters were super scary.

"I don't remember, I'm sorry." Longbottom said with a smile, and I nodded anxiously, turning back to the door and opening it, before I turned and waved a little to my ex-legal guardians. I closed the door behind me and stepped onto the transport, spinning down. I paused at the bottom, before stepping into the flood of kids returning to their common rooms. And immediately, there were giggles around me and kids pointing.

I just sighed heavily. They'd get over it eventually.

I took the staircase up two at a time, blushing as one of Wes's friends, Devon, burst into laughter at the sight of me, and I resisted the urge to run away, just crossing my arms across my chest as I power-walked onto the hallway that held my common room and I slid to a stop in front of the Fat Lady. "Mackled Malaclaw." I said fast, and the woman smiled sympathetically down at me.

"You on the end of a bad prank?" She sang gently, and I bounced a little on my toes, looking around self-consciously.

"Please let me in…" I said pathetically, and she rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath about ungrateful children, but swung open, and I clambered through the portrait hole. I pretty much sprinted across the Common Room to the girls' dorms and up the stairs, slipping into my room gratefully. I closed the door and turned to face the room. I rushed to my bed and stripped off my robes, grateful that the end of the school day meant that I could not wear my robes. I pulled off my shirt and slipped off my jeans, too, because they were stained on the ends of the sleeves and the legs, and tugged on a two-tone dress with a white top and a pink bottom part. Then I grabbed a white sweatshirt and pulled it on, zipping it up and then, because I was a big creep, I bunched my hair up and pulled up the hood.

There. The hair was hidden while I snuck over to the boys' room.

I slipped out into the staircase warily, jogging down the steps when I saw the coast was clear and then turning at the bottom to go up the boys' steps. I sprinted up them, to the first-year dorms where I knew Jamie and Louis always went, and I knocked nervously, shifting from foot to foot.

"Hey Ser—" Louis fell silent as he saw me with my hood up, and I flipped it back nervously, shaking out my hair. He blinked, staring at me, before Louis _burst_ out laughing. "Oh my _God_ what is _wrong _with your _hair_?" He choked out, one hand on his stomach, the other on the door, holding him up as he stumbled backwards, and I shoved past him into the room, slamming the door shut behind me. James had looked up from where he was sitting on his bed, and he just gaped at me.

"Sera?" James asked carefully, smiling a little but looking like he was fighting it. "What's up with the rainbow on your head?"

"I got potion on me." I said unhappily. I knew if I told him that Daisy had done it, he'd go beat her up or something, and Daisy was really good at getting the wrong people in trouble. I didn't want to do that to Jamie. "It dyed my hair." I ran a hand anxiously through my now-green hair, then watched it turn pink. "This is a disaster." I bit my lip. "It won't come out for months and I look _ridiculous._"

"You don't look ridiculous." James retorted, and I raised an eyebrow, looking at Louis, who was literally laughing so hard that he had tears in his eyes. He'd sort of staggered across the room enough to collapse against his bed, and I just scowled at him for a second before I reached out to smack the side of his head, but he couldn't stop laughing. "Alright, well, maybe a little." James muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he grinned, looking away. I wailed, covering my face with my hands and walking around behind James, to flop down on his bed.

"My hair." I wailed into his pillow, and James snorted in laughter. "I'm a rainbow. A human rainbow."

"Rainbows are nice." James reasoned through laughter, and I reached out blindly to punch his shoulder. "Everyone _likes_ rainbows."

"Rainbows are nice when they aren't _people_!" I grumbled, sitting up a little, and the door opened as Neil came in. I lifted my head at the sound of the door opening, and he grinned a little, stopping in the doorway for a second to study my new hair before he came over, holding out my potions' things. I muttered a thank you, and he just stared at my hair for another moment before shaking his head a little, trying to clear his brain enough to form sentences to say to Rainbow-Hair-Girl.

"Nice job getting Daisy back, by the way," He said with an appreciative grin, and I winced automatically, squeezing my eyes shut as James stopped chuckling behind me. Even Louis, who was more reasonable about his protectiveness, got a little quieter, though he couldn't seem to control his laughter.

"What'd Daisy do?" He asked.

"Dumped her potion on Sera's head." Neil murmured unsurely, glancing from me to James. "Uh-oh. Sorry, Ser." He said after a second, quickly realizing that James had not been aware of the details how my hair had gone from its natural sandy blond to rainbow. Nice job, Neil. I hate you.

"Daisy did this to you?" James asked quietly, and I opened my eyes, looking up at him with an apologetic grin: James didn't look even the least bit amused anymore. His gaze had darkened dramatically and he looked ready to kill. "Daisy Auden?" James demanded when I didn't respond.

"Neil, c'mon, let's go downstairs." Louis said, still laughing: he'd seen me and James argue enough to know what was coming. We had little tiny spats a lot. And then there'd been that awful fight before his birthday. Either way, Louis had born witness to all of this and had come to the conclusion that it was _not_ worth getting involved a long time ago.

Neil dumped his own books on his bed, at the end of the room, before following Louis out, shooting me a last apologetic look before he left, closing the door behind him.

And then James and I were alone.

I sat up carefully, beside Jamesie, so our legs were dangling off his bed, and let the silence settle: I knew that James was trying not to flip out that Daisy had done this. Daisy hadn't bothered me in a while, and considering that I now had murderers after me and an insane grandmother-guardian, we hadn't had to worry about bullies for a while. "Ser, Daisy did this to you?" James asked after a second, his voice tight. I turned to look at him seriously, and realized he looked absolutely crushed. He reached out to tuck a stray piece of Technicolor hair behind my ear, and I felt my face heat with a blush. "You should tell Longbottom, it's not fair that she can get away with—"

"I did the same thing to her." I said softly, looking up at James, my gaze meeting his so our faces were only inches from each other, his hand still beside my face. I let the surprise register on his face before I continued. "We were both covered in it. We got sent to Longbottom's office and then to the Headmistress' and now I have five day's worth of detention and my grandmother might actually send a hitman to kill me but I got her back." I smiled shyly at James, and he sighed, moving his hand down to rest beside mine. I grabbed his, giving it a comforting squeeze: I didn't _like _worrying Jamie. It just happened a lot by accident. "I'm not helpless, Jamie." I reminded him softly. "I'm not going to let myself get beat up." He frowned a little.

"You don't let people beat you up even if you get beat up, Ser." James reminded me quietly. "They're the ones doing something wrong. Not you." He murmured. I just shrugged a little, looking away, and James looked down as well, swinging his legs a little. "And you're always getting hurt." James murmured, biting his lip a little, looking up at me again. "It's—worrisome." Eric's words back at the Ministry were in my head: would James and Louis have been okay with me getting hurt? No. Of course not. James wasn't even okay with me getting pranked by a mean girl in my dormitory.

I bit my lip, studiously avoiding his gaze until I could literally feel it burning into my neck, and I had to look up. He smiled a little unsurely. "And your hair looks nice. I hate that Daisy messed up your hair. When it's all brushed and not like, multi-colored, it's nice." He looked away, blushing suddenly, and I blushed too, but didn't look away. James had just openly complimented me. James was a little more mature that I would have given him credit for, apparently.

Of course, the whole looking away a second later thing had detracted from that.

"Thanks." I murmured with a shy smile, and James sighed.

"You swear you got her back, right?" James said quietly, looking back up at me, evidently pointedly ignoring that he'd complimented me. I sighed heavily. "Seriously, Sera. She can't just get away with this or something—"

"Yes, James. I got her back." I sighed. "And—" I fell silent as the door to the room opened again, to reveal Wes standing the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Serafina Elisabetta Finnigan." He began grandly, a grin on his face. "What happened to your hair?"

"Wes, what are you _doing_ here?" I demanded, embarrassed beyond belief: first off, my brother was checking up on me. "This isn't your dorm and it's not _my_ dorm—it's _really _weird that you're here."

"I came to check that my only baby sister was alright." Wes said, feigning hurt, his face falling into a saddened expression, and I glared up at him fiercely. "My little baby sister. The child that I am responsible for. The _only family I've got left_—" Wes put a hand over his heart as I began to shove him out the door. "I have to defend you from the _boys_—"

"Wes!" I groaned. "Leave me _alone_," I whined, and Wes laughed as I futilely tried to push him back. The kid was fifteen-years-old and by no means a squirt (like me). I couldn't move him. "You're so mean—"

"Hey, gentle, gentle." Wes complained, wincing as I apparently hit a still healing rib, and I released him immediately, my eyes widening. It had only been two weeks since my brother had almost died in the Potters' backyard.

"I'm so sorry—" I began frantically.

"It's fine." Wes said quietly, putting a hand on the top of my head and smiling down at me. "And I'll leave you alone if you promise me there are no adverse effects to this crap aside from the months with your new hair." He said easily.

"Other than the hair and the high probability of our grandmother killing me? I'm fine." I told him hurriedly. "Now leave me alone."

"Fine, fine." Wes said easily, ruffling my hair. "I'll go." He made to leave before he turned back around, leaning into the room and shooting James a warning look. "Remember what I've said, Potter." He said ominously, before he turned and jogged down the stairs, and I winced (that didn't sound good), before stepping back into the room and shutting the door behind him, then turned to James desperately.

"What'd Wes say to you?" I demanded, making no attempt at subtlety. James blushed scarlet, but kind of glowered, shaking his head once. "Oh, c'mon." I said, crossing back to James. "What'd he say?"

James didn't answer. And it suddenly occurred to me, I could guess what had been said. Something along the lines of the speech Wes had given me the day we'd learned our parents were missing.

Oh, no.

I was going to kill my brother.


	29. Don't Let Me Fall

Chapter 29

"Hey James!" Bethany said cheerfully as she walked up to us during lunch. James raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything: I did see his eyes glance from Bethany to me, though, as he realized that Bethany was not talking to me despite the fact that I was sitting _right there_.

It'd been a week and a day since I'd become a human rainbow, but things hadn't been so bad: Alec and Wes had eventually stopped laughing at me. And Louis hadn't, not really, but he'd sort of dampened it to just a smile. James hadn't ever really laughed, and he didn't think my rainbow hair was that amusing: he really liked my real hair, apparently. It was kind of sweet actually. But, whatever.

Well actually, not whatever: the rainbow hair had had another, unintended, consequence. Angry McGrandmother (a.k.a. my father's mother) had written me a letter. Not a howler, which I supposed was good, but the alternative hadn't been that much better. And it had been short and angry and said that I was now grounded for the _entire_ summer and should expect further consequences when I got 'home' (her words, not mine—her home was not home. My home, furniture-less and abandoned, was sitting unattended until Wes got it when he turned seventeen). And I hadn't told Wes or Louis or Jamie about the letter—mostly because the letter had been really, truly mean. She'd called me a mudblood and a shame to family name, told me she was ashamed to call me her granddaughter. She'd written that my father would have been humiliated to have a daughter like me.

I'd just stuffed it in the bedside table I shared with Edie and wondered whether I'd survive the summer.

Today we were eating lunch early because of the quidditch game: it started at one, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, and there was an hour warm up before hand. Granted, I couldn't actually _play_ in the game, but Duane's brother Eric, who was announcer, was letting me keep score (mostly because he felt bad for me, I was sure) which meant I had to be at warm-up. Just a team thing. And it was nice to feel like someone at least considered me an honorary part of the team.

"So," She began when James didn't respond but did look up, putting her hands on the table and leaning forward. James looked at me uncomfortably: he had no idea what was going on—and I smirked a little, ducking my head in an effort to smother a little bit of laughter. "I'm making a study group—final exams are only a month and a half away, you know?" She rolled her eyes, flipping her hair back over her shoulder. "And there's so much work to do! So I thought maybe you and Louis could join." She grinned charmingly at James, who just met her gaze evenly, catching on, now. James was immature, yeah, but he wasn't stupid. He knew my roommates were kind of obsessed with him and Louis and Rory—and really all boys. "Just cause, I mean—you're the best at Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Potions."

"I'm awful at Potions." James said flatly, and Bethany, delighted that he'd spoken (this was, in itself, an anomaly—that was how little James could stand from Daisy and Bethany), giggled a little, shaking her head.

"Nah, you're just being humble," She said, still giggling. James shot me a thoroughly unhappy look, and I pouted in sympathy for him. He had to put up with a lot of this sort of thing.

"No." James denied bluntly, and Bethany's giggles were immediately silenced. "And Sera's better at Defense than I am." James said slowly after a second, evidently uncomfortable, and I lifted my head to glare at him in irritation as Bethany's smile fell as she threw me an awkward glance. She, and pretty much everyone at this point, knew that insulting me in front of Jamesie was a bad idea. But insulting me would be the only way to refute that fact—because refuting it was saying that I was bad at Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Well, she's just had more experience—you're _so_ good." Bethany said slowly, obviously trying to think through what she was saying. And it would have been a fine tactic.

If only there wasn't the fact that there was only one worse idea than saying something mean about me to James. Saying _anything_ about the attacks. At all. He couldn't stand talking about them—we'd only talked about them every once and a while and James had conveyed how absolutely horrifying it was to watch whatever was going on. But then he'd switch subjects to something else. But I knew.

God, I should write a James Potter hand book. I knew everything about Jamie. I was such a stalker.

"And we really only have the last two spots for you and Louis." She said, keeping herself from getting blamed for my lack of an invitation. "So I can't invite Sera."

"But you could if you wanted to." James said frankly, looking condescendingly at Bethany, who had effectively argued her way into a corner.

And then there was a very, very awkward silence.

I looked down at my plate and then up at James again, biting my lip. "Sera doesn't need defending." Bethany finally tried quietly, sounding shakier than she had just before, and I ran a hand through my hair, looking at Bethany for a second: this was a desperate last attempt to get James in her group. Why did she even care this much? She barely _knew_ James—and as far as I knew, they'd never had an actual conversation that had gone well. "She can defend herself."

Ugh. I was beginning to _agree_ with Bethany. I knew there was something wrong with the world.

"I'm not joining your study group." James said finally, and I sighed, rolling my eyes. Bethany nodded once, blushing as she rose to her feet and clambered back over the bench that she'd been sitting on, ducking her head and leaving the Great Hall. I watched her go, feeling a little bad for her, before I turned back to James. James took a hefty bite of food, stuffing his face, and I just looked at him, frowning guiltily at little bit. Now I felt bad. Stupid Bethany. She was either making me feel mean or being mean.

"That was a little bit mean." I said to him quietly, and James shot me a look over his food. I just fixed him back with a look, and we glared a little bit at each other over our plates while he finished chewing and swallowing, before he sighed in exasperation.

"You're just too nice." James muttered, looking away in surrender while waving his hand at me dismissively. "She was just really weirdly exclusive to you _in front of_ you, in front of your best friend. That doesn't even make sense in crazy Bethany land." James rolled his eyes. "If she really wanted me in her group she could have invited you too, and then I would have at least considered it. Or been nice, or something better than what just happened. But she was mean to you in front of you." He explained easily.

"I know but I—" I paused. " I feel weird being the reason you don't hang out with Bethany." I admitted, and James just frowned up at me.

"Ser, she's mean to you, to Malcolm—" He paused, running a hand through his hair, and I smiled a little at him: James had taken to defending Malcolm recently, which I thought was a sign that James was in fact not a bad person. Not that I'd ever thought he was a bad person—James had one of the best hearts I'd ever seen—but of Louis, Jamie and me, Louis was the one with the morals and James was the one who told people to suck it up. Just as a general rule. "She's mean to the underdog in every single situation. What's there to _like_?" He demanded, and I nodded with a small smile.

"She's mean to Malcolm?" I asked after a second, and he nodded, making a face.

"I can't help but feel a little bad for Malcolm." James admitted quietly, looking down at his food. "He's muggle born and stuff, and his parents are these really intense army people, and he can't live up to that. He doesn't…" James paused, looking up at me again, frowning a little. "He doesn't want to." I looked at my best friend for a long moment: I knew James felt a little bit the same way with his dad. Harry Potter, the boy who lived. Youngest Chief Auror (ever). Orphaned at one-year-old. Defeated Voldemort. It was hard to be that man's son, I knew that—but sometimes I wondered whether I _actually_ understood. Whether simply knowing that he felt that way was enough.

Course, my parents weren't exactly not well-known.

But it wasn't like James's—he'd never had a time when his dad _hadn't_ saved the world (literally). And my parents were more well-known for their lack of presence than for something good. Whenever this nonsense worked itself out, if it worked itself out, then my fame, Wes's fame, Mum and Dad's fame—it'd all be over. We'd never be normal, yeah. We'd still be well-known. But I was fairly sure people would lose interest, eventually.

But no one was going to lose interest in James's dad.

"You know no one expects you to save the world, right?" I asked softly, reaching across the table to put a hand on his forearm, giving it a light, comforting squeeze. James didn't look away, surprisingly, and I seized my chance: James was so reluctant to discuss actual emotions that it took a lot of work to get him to be open enough to even listen. "Your dad did some great stuff. But you're you—you don't have to save the world, or be minister of magic, or be famous. You can just be normal." I smiled a little at him, and James snorted, shaking his head.

"I'm never going to be normal." James said rebelliously, and I frowned at him.

"Jamie, you're not—flawed, or anything." I shrugged, not liking the way his words sounded. "You don't have to live up to crap." James raised his eyebrows.

"Witch Weekly's annual Potter issue—" Yeah, that was a thing: Poor James, "Thinks I'm going to be a professional quidditch player."

"Only if you want to be." I told him with a shrug. "Seriously, James." He still looked skeptical, so I just sighed, meeting his gaze honestly. "I'm your best friend, you know me well enough to know that I'd never lie to you." I paused, letting that sink in. "If you want to work at the Three Broomsticks as a waiter, no one who actually knows you, no one who actually matters, will care." James blinked, then frowned disappointedly at me.

"I'm smarter than that." James protested, and I blinked, and then grinned. "No seriously, I know I'm awful at Potions but I can at least hold my own in everything else—" James complained, and I rolled my eyes.

"Mm-hmm." I agreed skeptically. "I'm not going to jump in there with the fact that you got a P on your last Charms paper—"

"No one likes charms—"

"I _love_ charms." I argued, and James rolled his eyes.

"Whatever." He said dismissively, waving his hand at me. "Professor Faughn let me re-do it _anyway."_ He muttered after a second, looking irritated, and I snorted in laughter, before I glanced at my watch: it was 11:30.

"We should get going, Jamie." I said, holding up my watch, and James sighed dramatically but seemed to appreciate the change of subject, because he stood up without argument, clambering over the bench, and I swung my legs over the bench, before standing up, grinning a little to myself as I saw Jamie relax.

Jamie and I walked out to the hallway, walking in amiable silence for a few minutes before I looked up at James, something that had been on my mind for a while resurfacing.

What in the world had Wes said to Jamie?

I knew the vague outlines, or at least, I thought I did: Wes thought James liked me, or something, and I liked James. _Liked_ liked. And that was a problem. And it would have been less of a problem if my obnoxious older brother had any idea of how to keep some things to himself, the jerk. But no. He'd told me and now he'd told James (uncool, Wes, uncool) and it was trouble.

"What're you thinking about?" James asked quietly after a second, his curious gaze on me, and I sighed, biting my lip for a second before I plowed on.

"What'd Wes say to you?" I asked tiredly after a second. It'd been a little over a week since the Wes had been like _Remember what I said, Potter_. I'd been angst-ing about this too long. I needed some answers or I was going to be risking my sanity.

James turned scarlet, looking away from me and hooking his thumbs nervously on his jeans pockets. "Just that…" He fell silent, looking down as we entered the courtyard of Hogwarts, and I resisted the urge to look down at my feet, keeping my eyes on Jamie's familiar face. "He thought—thinks—that I'm… " He fell silent, looking up at me meaningfully. "You know." He said uncomfortably, rubbing the back of my head. "I… like you." There was a pause as this thought settled on me, and I turned scarlet.

"But he's…" I tried, and failed to say something. "He—" I bit my lip, hugging myself as I stopped, turning to my best friend, my eyes hooded as I tried to decipher what in the world was going on. James reluctantly stopped too, and turned towards me, both of us looking at each other intensely. "Was he right?" I asked after a second. James looked at me seriously before he just looked away.

"No." James sounded more scared than I'd ever head him, and I felt betrayal well in the pit of my stomach, tears almost jumping to my eyes. James didn't like me. Wes was wrong.

Why did this _upset_ me?

I'd _prayed_ for this to happen. I'd hoped and dreamed that I wouldn't have to deal with the ramifications of having my very best friend on the planet, the only person in my life who wasn't dysfunctional or full of himself or somehow else making my life harder, like me.

And now I was standing here, after hearing the answer I'd been hoping for, in the courtyard of my school, trying not to cry.

What the hell was going on?

---

"Today is perfect weather for the game of the year: the beginning of the _tournament_," Eric Jordan said with exaggerated drama in his voice, and I just lazily flipped through the pages of the score book in my lap. "The pinnacle game of Slytherin vs. Gryffindor." He grinned as the crowd roared as he said their respective teams, and I wondered in the back of my mind whether Slytherin and Gryffindor would ever grow out of their constant competition. Most of my mind, however, was firmly focused on James, who was sitting on the side, his broom in his hand: he wasn't starting. "On the Slytherin team today starting is Vincent Ruffin," He paused, allowing for the second year seeker to fly out. "Delia Mendez," Fourth year Chaser, "Lauren Trotta," Fifth year Chaser, "Benedict Salem," Third year chaser, "Owen O'Rourke," Fourth year Beater who Wes actually hated with every bone in his body, "Brian Gallagher," Beater (duh), "and Danny Diablo." Sixth year keeper, and scariest boy at Hogwarts, hands down.

Slytherin cheered excitedly, and the Gryffindor stands were dead silent, glaring at the opposite side of the pitch. "For _Gryffindor_," Eric said more excitedly, and I rolled my eyes as the Gryffindor kids went crazy. I had as much house spirit as the next person, but seriously, this was a sickness. "I want to introduce Teddy Lupin, Selma Langer, Nelly Vane, Grace McClellan, Minna Dukelow, Wes Finnigan," There was a pause as he let this settle in, "And my _little wittle_ baby brudder," Eric said excitedly, using baby talk, and there was general laughter as Duane flew out, looking pissed off, "Duane Frederick Jordan!" I just looked down at my book—I was not in the mood to do this, but I'd signed up before James had told me he didn't like me—before marking all the people in my book: there was a scorebook for quidditch where I could mark the stats of the player and stuff. Eric had had to go over it with me for like half an hour: it was complex, and I'd developed a little bit of ADD. My mind was, for some reason, replaying what James had said to me, over and over again, in my head.

"And Lupin and Diablo tip off—" Eric cried into the microphone, and the crowd waited for baited breath for—Teddy to get the ball. He grabbed it right out of the air and took off towards the other goal posts, dodging a bludger, before Lauren Trotta and Ben Salem came up on either side of him, driving him astray and making him lose his balance: he desperately chucked the quaffle backwards and Delia Mendez caught it, darting backwards towards the goals as Teddy streaked back to defend his goalposts—like he was supposed to be doing.

Wes smacked a bludger towards them and Owen O'Rourke smacked it back, scowling darkly at Wes, but misaimed, so it went towards Gallagher, who shot a dark glare at me and—smacked it right at me. There was an outcry from the Gryffindor side of the pitch and some of the players, but Duane just slipped in and smacked it back at Gallagher, hard. Brian ducked and it soared over his head to slam into Lauren's knee. Lauren went down, spiraling slowly, before she hit the ground, and another chaser sped onto the pitch while at teacher went below to check on her. Owen glared darkly at Wes, and Wes just glared back, looking between Gallagher and Owen, evidently trying to see which one he hated more.

I still wasn't sure.

Both bludgers were now careening wildly around the field, and Wes peeled away from his little anger club of Gallagher and O'Rourke, coming over to help Duane smack the bludgers towards the Slytherins. Selma was circling farther over head, evidently trying to find the snitch, with Vincent Ruffin, Slytherin's god-awful seeker wobbling on his broom several feet below her.

"And Dukelow and Mendez speed up the field, and—Jordan takes a bludger to the head and _someone_ catch the kid, please!" Eric's loud voice caught Teddy's attention: Wes fell back towards the goals, temporarily being keeper while Teddy helped get a semi-conscious Duane to the ground. Games weren't usually this violent, but Slytherin vs. Gryffindor was always harsh. "And now Lupin is waving in James Potter, the boy of the boy who lived!" This always got a laugh out of the crowd, despite the fact that James was never amused by it, and my eyes focused in on my best friend as he took to the air, before I looked away, looking out over the beautiful grounds of Hogwarts. There were still a couple people—mostly the uber-studious who had lost track of time in the library—coming down to the game, and I spotted Bethany walking down. I had a sudden urge to be in bed: I was _exhausted_. I didn't want to be at this game that I wasn't allowed to be playing in, taking score for my brother and best friend who were, avoiding (in my own head, which was pathetic) the topic of my best friend's sudden declaration of un-love for me.

"And Potter misses the hit, the bludger slipping past him to crash into Dukelow—James Potter's beating skills are at an all time low today," Eric said disappointedly, and James spun on his broom to glare at Eric. "Eh, I just call it like I see, Potter." Eric said with a grin, and James's gaze flicked to me, and we stared at each other across the field for a moment before I blushed and looked away.

This was awful.

I wanted my best friend to stay my best friend. I hated Wes for telling James whatever he'd told James and I hated James for saying that he didn't like me though he had every right to tell me the truth and I hated that I hated that James didn't like me.

But then I felt the tears prickle in my eyes again, so I forced myself to stop thinking about that—or really anything at all—and just watched the game.

---

The moment the game was done, I didn't even wait for the teams to hit the ground before I closed the score book and slipped out of the row of teachers that Eric and I had been sandwiched between, down the stair case and into the stands, thankful that everyone was already spilling out. I beat almost everyone down the stairs, though, and waited at the entrance, shifting nervously from foot to foot. I needed someone, and I knew Louis would hang in there with crazy me. And I knew I was being a little crazy.

"Sera, hey." Louis said, grinning as he emerged from the entrance, and I just looked at him for a long moment, swallowing past the giant lump in my throat. Louis recognized something was wrong right away, and, because I love him _so freaking much_, he grabbed my wrist and tugged me a couple feet away from the crowd spilling out of the entrance to the stands. "What's wrong?" He asked me worriedly, his eyes searching my face, and I just bit my lip, shaking my head. I couldn't explain this to Louis. Wes thought Louis like me and I thought he was wrong but I couldn't risk that.

"I just—I'm just—bummed about the loss." I muttered, and Louis snorted in sarcastic laughter: he no more believed that then anyone else. Louis wasn't stupid.

"Sera, c'mon." Louis said softly to me. I shook my head again, and Louis nodded slowly, seemingly getting that I couldn't talk about this. "Your weird mood have anything to do with why James was playing absolutely awful today?" Louis asked me gently, and I nodded once, barely trusting myself to do anything else. Louis looked torn, and beyond that, really angry, as he ran a hand over his hair, and looked past me, over my shoulder, and I turned to look at the Gryffindor team, looking bummed at the loss and exhausted but nevertheless good-natured emerge from the pitch. Wes had an arm around Selma's waist, and Grace was anxiously running up ahead, probably to check on Duane in the Hospital Wing. Teddy was imparting some kind of crucial captain knowledge to David, apparently, because Teddy looked very self-important and David looked very bored. Nelly was chattering away mindlessly to Minna. And James was trailing behind all of them, his gaze firmly on the ground, and I just looked at him for a long, shaky moment before I looked away.

"Let's just head back up to the castle." Louis encouraged quietly, grabbing my wrist and dragging me after him as we walked behind the quidditch team. I followed Louis lazily, dragging my feet as I watched the ground.

"SerBear!" Wes said, turning back to me with a fond grin, and I just looked up at him miserably: Wes blinked, and then frowned, looking down at me. "Kid, hey, what's…?" He glanced at Louis, then back to me. "What's wrong?" I stared at him blindly for a second: _how_ did he not know? My big brother—Wes, who I looked up to completely, and had recently thought was maybe the best big brother ever—had told my best friend that he thought that James liked me, probably trying to keep James from acting on his liking me, or something. But that hadn't happened. And Wes was fifteen-years-old. He knew enough about the universe to know that you couldn't just _say_ stuff like that to twelve-year-old boys. He'd been the one who'd told me that twelve-year-old boys were emotionally immature, that even if they had a crush on me they'd be too embarrassed to act on it. Wes talking to James was Wes being the biggest jerk big brother ever.

"You're a jerk for talking to Jamie." I said under my breath, ducking my head again and passing him. Wes grabbed my sleeve, pulling me back in front of him with a darker frown, and I just glared up at him angrily, tears beading in my eyes, finally, after the longest day ever: Louis tried to push me past my brother, but Wes just turned his angry glare to Louis for ten second before looking back to me.

"Ser, I don't get what's going on?" Wes asked me worriedly, and behind him, I saw James stop. Teddy turned back as James did, frowning at his god brother and trying to wave him forward unsuccessfully. Selma had stopped beside Wes, and Nelly had stopped a couple feet behind _her_, because she couldn't stand not to witness future gossip. "Why are you mad at me?" He asked me seriously, putting his hands on his shoulders, but I just brushed him off, shaking my head tightly.

"You _told_ Jamie that he liked me and _guess what_, big bro?" I hissed angrily, glaring at him. "He doesn't!" Selma was scowling at Wes too, now, and Teddy looked shocked, stopping himself from trying to drag James away from what I obviously wanted to be a private conversation. Wes blinked, surprised. "You were wrong." I repeated, glaring at him. "Are you happy?" I demanded angrily. "I know you're superman, you rule the world, you're Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile and whatever the hell else but you still owe it to me to assume that my entire life is not up to you to change for your amusement!"

"Sera—I didn't—" Wes stuttered out.

"You suck." I hissed flatly. I shoved Wes back from me a little as I realized his grip on my sleeve had gone slack, and Wes blinked down at me. Louis stepped between Wes and me protectively, and Wes looked further shocked: he'd never been the one I needed to be protected from.

"Wes, what did you do?" Teddy asked slowly, and James turned his back to Wes, Selma, Louis and me, to shake his head emphatically at Teddy. Wes glanced back at Teddy, then back down at me. "Wes you _idiot_…" Teddy said after a second, glaring at Wes, who just swatted his hand angrily back at Teddy wordlessly: he knew he'd messed up.

"Kid, I'm sorry." He murmured, and I just shook my head, pulling away from the group, and Louis put a hand on my back, pushing me past Wes and James as he walked with me. "Sera—"

"Just—shut up." I threw back in his direction, and Louis glanced worriedly at me as we passed my ex-teammates and my brother and my best friend.

I was _never_ going to forgive my big brother.

I mean, I knew where this had come from. It was, mainly, two things: Wes's unique inability to not _not_ get involved in everything in my life that had rooted in his sudden caretaking of me; and Wes's recent, ginormous ego. The first was forgivable, even, in a twisted way, kind of nice. Wes was now functioning, essentially, as a single parent of little ole me. I wasn't by any means a toddler or anything, so I didn't need constant supervision, but I did need an adult. And I had my godparents and my teachers and my best friends' parents, but I needed an actual family. And in terms of family, Wes was it, and I knew he took that responsibility seriously.

The second, though, was less forgivable.

Up there on his pedestal, where my big brother was perfect and we were simply tiny people running around in the Kingdom of Wesley-Land, I was just his kid sister. He could mess with my life without even batting an eye: it'd have no effect on _him_. It would barely even matter to me (or so Wes thought) because I was eleven and the things that went on in my life were less important. Or even if they did, somehow, go drastically wrong, it could be fixed. I could recover. Who cared what happened to eleven-year-old Serafina Finnigan? I was just a little girl with no one looking out for her but her big brother, and Wes was the actual source of my pain and suffering, so I was kind of a free agent. I got hurt and the world went one because it was just an easy mistake.

I was being dramatic, I knew. Wes loved me. Wes was always freaked out after the attacks, and when I'd been kidnapped, I'd never seen him look so genuinely relieved as when I returned to the Ministry of Magic. But sometimes—God—he lost sight of what was going on in the real world. And he messed with me and my world and it drove me _up the freaking wall_.

By the time I'd reasoned away my crazy brother's motives, Louis and I had reached the hallway that held the entrance of the Gryffindor Common Room, and Louis was looking more and more freaked out that I was about to like, spin around and run back and just kill Wes. And I completely would have, on a normal day, but I was exhausted. Getting in an argument with your best friend and your big brother was exhausting.

Louis let me go through the portrait hole first, and once we'd both climbed through, he paused, putting a hand on my arm, and I turned to him, biting my lip. "You okay, Ser?" He asked softly. I sighed, looking at Louis tiredly.

"I don't even know why I'm freaking out." I admitted softly. Louis looked away, glancing around the Common Room before he turned back to me, a rueful smile on his face.

"Yeah, you do." Louis murmured, and I frowned in confusion at Louis, who just nodded once, very serenely, but I saw his tumultuous gaze, how angry he was that I didn't know that I understood. "Ser, you _know_ why you're upset. I know why you're upset, James knows—Hell, even Teddy knows, probably." Louis looked away from me, glancing around the Common Room and taking a deep breath before looking back down at me tiredly. "God knows my sister called this in, like, October." Louis continued under his breath, and then shook his head, looking at me intently. And because I'm a coward, and I ducked my head, not meeting Louis's gaze.

Poor Louis. I knew sometimes he got excluded from Jamie and me. Mostly because James had, at some point, transcended the line between best friend and my other half. James and I did everything together, I spent my vacations with him. He knew how much I genuinely hated my grandmother, I knew how much he loved his brother and sister even if he would rather die than share that with me. But this fantastic system, where James was my other half, left Louis a little bit excluded.

And I knew that was absolutely no fun.

I'd obviously never done it on purpose, and I knew James hadn't, because he did love Louis somewhere deep down inside where maybe it had never even reached James's brain. It was just that these things happened unintentionally sometimes. People becoming best friends excluded people who didn't deserve that. And I knew my not facing up to Louis right now wasn't helping my case—but I just didn't have the energy to try to swing through another heart to heart with anyone today. I'd already hit James and Wes. Not Louis too.

"I'm going to go up to my room." I told him after a second, embarrassed as I pulled away. "I'll see you down here for dinner, though, okay?" I requested, glancing up shakily, and Louis nodded a little, his gaze piercing me. I eyed him for a moment longer, feeling incredibly bad for him and myself, before I just shook my head, crossing my arms across my chest and turning away. I walked towards the girls' dormitory stairs, not looking back, and I walked up slowly. My exhaustion was that serious: I could barely move without taking it very slowly. I reached the first years' dorm eventually, and opened the door.

And Bethany was sitting on her bed with Daisy (whose hair was still as rainbow as mine) and Aileen, reading aloud from a paper that I recognized. It was a letter. The one my grandmother had written to me—the mean one. Where she called me a mudblood and an ingrate and told me that my father would be ashamed and that she _was_ ashamed. Bethany was reading it aloud to Daisy and Aileen.

"Sera!" Bethany called out, grinning smugly at me as she lifted the paper to wave it a little, and I felt my heart pound in my chest uncomfortably, tears burning in my eyes. "Oh my _god_ your grandmother _hates_ you!" She cried, laughing, and I took a shallow, shaking breath, my unsteady gaze flicking to Aileen. _I'm sorry_. She mouthed to me, her back to Bethany and Daisy so they wouldn't see, and I just stared at the girls. "Daisy didn't even get a note—"

"My parents know who started it." Daisy said smugly, exchanging knowing looks with Bethany. "Sounds likes your grandmother just thinks you're as worthless as your parents do." I closed my eyes as my tears spilled over. "Just ditched you, huh? They just _abandoned_ you and now your grandmother's realizing _her_ mistake." I just stormed past them, ripping the note out of Bethany's hand and tearing it in half, then in quarters before I stuffed it into my trunk. I turned back to the girls and took a deep breath, scowling darkly at them.

"Shut up." I hissed at Daisy and Bethany. "Next time you go through my stuff, I'm telling Longbottom and after that stunt with the hair, Daisy, you're in for some serious trouble. And Bethany, you're just a bitch. No one likes you. It's that simple." My eyes narrowed as Bethany gaped at me: I rarely snapped like this. I didn't tattle, as a rule, I wasn't mean, and I kept to myself. Most of Bethany's hate of me had been less vocalized than simply felt. I'd never really had the opportunity to crush her like a bug. "You'll never get James or Louis no matter how much you beg them to join your study group, and I'll _never_ stop thinking it's funny how desperate you are."

And then there was silence.

"At least I have somewhere to go at the end of the school year." Bethany said finally, standing up and turning to walk out angrily; Daisy followed, whipping out the door and going downstairs. Aileen stood too, but took a few steps towards me, and I just shook my head at her tightly.

"Sera, I'm _sorry…_" She said softly.

"If you're so sorry than don't do stuff like that." I told her, glaring. I'd thought Aileen and I were sort of friends—she was nice to me in Muggle Studies and sat next to me so Gallagher didn't (he would do this to have a better angle to play pranks on me or something) and we were kind of friends. But this was not something that any kind of friends did to each other.

"Bethy and I have been friends for years." Aileen said softly, and I tried not to flinch at Bethany's new nickname: it was also my mother's. "I'm sorry." She repeated, and I just scowled at her: Aileen nodded a little, getting that I wasn't about to forgive her right then and there, and turned, walking slowly out of the dorm. She closed the door behind her but I gave it a moment before I just sank down onto my trunk, staring straight forward.

How was it possible that I had literally alienated _everyone_ around me in one day?


	30. Mouthful of Diamonds

A/N: alrighty, this is a long one. but only because i love my readers.

now i have to write a paper on charles V. yay. not.

xoxo

...

Chapter 30

"Mondays are the worst." I growled to my Louis as I dragged myself into my seat that Monday. Louis just shot me a sympathetic glance over his toast. "They start bad and—" I fell silent as James entered the Great Hall. He stood awkwardly in the doorway before he ducked his head, swerving to Louis's side of the table—something he never did—and walking slowly down the narrow stretch of cobble-stoned ground between the tables. He sank carefully onto the bench beside Louis, picking up a roll, and I just stared at him for a moment over the table. We hadn't spoken since Saturday—and not speaking to James was a freaking big deal. I could no longer remember what I did before James and I had spent every possible moment together. Thus, I'd spent most of my time yesterday awkwardly hanging out with Louis and Rory beside the lake.

"I'm not hungry." I murmured after a second to Louis, making to push myself up, and James looked up at me stonily, just watching me—and that simple acknowledgement of my existence, more than I'd gotten in days, made me stop.

The thing was, we hadn't fought. We hadn't even animatedly discussed—we'd just stopped talking because there was nothing left to say. Because I was embarrassed for bringing up the thing that Wes had said to James and embarrassed that I was so angry at him for simply telling me the truth. People wanted that in friends.

People other than me.

Mostly, though, I just didn't get it. I flat out didn't understand what was wrong with me. Who wants their best friend to lie to them—hadn't I wanted this? Hadn't I wanted James not to like me? Hadn't I advocated this opinion of James's to Wes? And Victoire? Hadn't I gotten mad when people had made fun of James being my boyfriend/me being his girlfriend? If all of that had occurred—why was I mad now? What gave me that right to be mad? Or upset, or whatever the hell this feeling was? Nothing. Nothing at all.

"Stay and wait for your owl, then," Louis murmured, glancing up at James and me with an exhausted expression. "Duke won't have to go to the Common Room, then." I took a deep breath, releasing the table and looking down at my empty plate. Silent minutes ticked by—three, before Louis, God bless him, lost his patience with us. "You guys have to talk eventually." He pointed out astutely, his voice purely factual. "Uncle Harry is working on Sera's parents' case. Sera's godfather is Uncle Harry's friend, even if they're fighting right now." Louis shrugged. "Wes and Teddy are friends, even if they're fighting right now. " He just looked at us seriously. "You two are being stupid."

"Shut up, Lou." James muttered, snatching the pitcher of pumpkin juice from it's place on the table and pouring himself some, and I rolled my eyes as some splashed out his cup and onto the table. Internally, though, I felt like bursting into tears. I missed James. So much. Seeing him was not enough—I missed talking to him. I missed being his best friend, I missed having him as my best friend. I just didn't like my time at Hogwarts half as much without him.

"I'm not enjoying this go-between thing." Louis continued, as if James had never spoken. "I'm not going to let it happen for very long. Measures will be taken if you don't talk soon."

"That sounds vaguely threatening." I pointed out with a distasteful frown. "I'm not all that fond of being threatened. It happens enough without you joining in on the party as well." I raised my eyebrows, and Louis snorted in laughter, smiling up at me for a second before he looked back down at his food. I paused, glancing at the door as my brother's familiar form appeared there, and Wes just crossed the hall to sit beside Selma. I looked back at Louis and James, a tight feeling in my chest. I wanted to friends/family back. I was feeling very, very isolated.

The owls arrived then, in their usual flurry of feathers and paper rustling, and jerked me out of my pity party: a newspaper and magazine, as well as a letter dropped in front of me, and I straightened up defensively. I was subscribed to nothing—getting copies of newspapers and magazines meant that they were complimentary which meant that my family had somehow been mentioned.

Birthday of Seamus Finnigan Passes, No Progress Made in Investigation.

I blinked as I stared down at the paper, a picture of my father on the front. Stupid Daily Prophet. My eyes flicked to the date: April 24, 2017. Yeah. That was my father's birthday. He was thirty seven, today. Thanks for rubbing it in my face, Newspaper.

My eyes glossed over the paper, but mostly, I kept looking back at the photo, staring at the eagerly waving man and wondering whether I'd ever see him again. The fact of it was, it'd been months. Months and months. And as far as I knew, there'd been no word of him since those pictures in November at the Ministry. That was five months. Five months was a long time to not hear from a kidnapper. Maybe the only thing I'd ever have of my father again was this photograph, or this type—where he's waving mindlessly at me, because he doesn't know. His photographed self doesn't understand that he's missing, probably dead. All his photographed self knows is what he knew at the time of the photograph—and that is that I'm his daughter.

I realized that my eyes were burning, and I blinked rapidly, swallowing as I folded the newspaper carefully, hiding the front page. People were glancing at me as they looked at their front pages, but I just turned my focus to the magazine—the Quibbler. I just turned that one over, not even bothering to inspect it—the Quibbler was no more a reliable source than plain old gossip. I looked up at my friends miserably.

"I'm sorry." James murmured quietly, and I nodded, biting my lip. These were the first words I'd gotten from James since he'd told me Wes was wrong, and I knew they weren't about what he'd said—he probably didn't even know he was supposed to be sorry about that. How was he supposed to know? I didn't even know why he was supposed to be sorry about that. "Your dad's birthday's today?" He asked, and I swallowed.

"I miss him." I admitted softly, glancing at Louis for a second, before back at James, and James cocked his head to the side, letting me go on uninterrupted. That was maybe why James was the best listener ever: he was always listening. He never spoke over someone or interrupted a story or even spoke if it sounded like someone might be a little lost in what they were trying to say. He let people (primarily me) work it out. "He'd be thirty seven." I said softly. I glanced down the table at my brother, who was inspecting his own complimentary copy of the Daily Prophet, his friends babbling around him pointlessly, before I looked back at James. "They've missed Dad's birthday, Wes's, Christmas, Easter..." I shook my head a little, sighing quietly as I ran a tired hand through my hair. "I don't believe they're coming back anymore." James didn't say anything, because there was so little to say. He couldn't respond to that. He didn't know whether they were coming back or not.

No one did.

...

"Bethany is such a _bitch_." Edie murmured to Rory as we walked out of our muggle studies class two days later, throwing a glare back at the girl. "After what she did to Sera—" Edie cut herself off, shaking her head she was so mad. She looked at me. "And Aileen—I'm so sorry, Ser. I had no idea."

James and I hadn't really made up—he'd spoken to me, but it hadn't been enough to quash the silence between us. It was too awkward, too weird. Wes had _ruined_ how perfectly in sync Jamie and I were—and aside from that, he'd thrown a wrench in the Jamie/Louis dynamic. They were fighting, I was pretty sure, but whenever I asked Louis, he always brushed me off with something that sounded like an answer but wasn't really. I hated being brushed off.

"I know." I said tightly, with a weak smile. Rory put an arm around my shoulders, and the gesture practically screamed James to me. I swallowed past the lump in my throat, letting my head rest against his shoulder. "I'm not blaming you. It's not your fault." I straightened up a little, glancing up at Rory. "Are Lou and Jamie fighting?" I asked Rory pressingly, frowning a little up at him.

All emotion drained from Rory's face immediately, and I raised my eyebrows: what in the name of _God_? He looked blank as Jamie, now. "I don't think so." Rory said carefully, and I stopped, turning to him, putting a hand on his chest to stop him, looking up at him seriously. Rory looked uncertainly at Edie, but our friend looked determined to stay out of this, and walked ahead, catching up Collin.

"You know something." I said suspiciously.

"Sera..." Rory muttered uncomfortably, turning scarlet. "You know what's going on." I just stared up at him, dropping my hand from his chest and readjusting my bag on my shoulder as I studied him, shaking my head a little. "Sera, you're not stupid." Rory reiterated. "You've got to know what I'm talking about."

"I don't." I said softly. "I'm just—" I paused, suddenly. "They're fighting about me—and—" I blushed at his name, the first sign of trouble, I knew, "James?" I asked in a hushed voice, shocked. Rory nodded emphatically, looking around. "Why?"

"James is miserable, you're miserable—Louis stuck in the middle and James just..." Rory sighed heavily, running a hand through his dark hair. "James lied to you about something and Louis is mad, he doesn't think you deserve that." Rory let that sit for a second, before he paused. "You don't." He murmured after a moment.

"What'd James lie about?" I asked, hurt despite myself.

"Just—ugh, I don't like this, okay?" Rory said irritatedly, looking genuinely uncomfortable. "I don't like having to be the go between, I know that Louis hates it—you can just—talk to James, okay? You're both big kids now. You can talk to each other, work out your problems without Louis and me walking you through them." I stared at Rory for a moment. That was so much _meaner_ than he usually sounded.

But it was kind of true. I had been leaning on Louis a lot over the past few days. And I missed James like hell, which had effectively put me in the worst mood of my life.

"Sorry." I said sincerely. Rory raised his eyebrows. "I didn't mean for this to happen—James just told me he didn't like me and my brother screwed me over talking to him." I sighed. "I'm in a bad mood, it's not your fault, and you and Louis shouldn't be stuck in the middle."

"Ugh, it's fine, I didn't need an apology." Rory muttered, flapping his hand embarrassedly at me. "I just—go! There's James! Go make up with him!" Rory put his hands on my shoulders, spun me around and shoved me at James, and I twisted to glare back at my friend, who pretty much all but sprinted in another direction. I turned back awkwardly to James, who was now staring at me like I was an alien—and Louis was sprinting in the other direction from him as well.

Rory and Louis had set this up.

"They did this on purpose." I said resentfully, and James sighed, glancing behind him before looking back at me tiredly. He looked worn out—there were deep circles under his eyes, and his skin seemed sallower. I would have bet he hadn't slept in days.

"I'm sorry." James said to me softly, and I blinked, surprised.

"Me too." I murmured, shrugging a little within my robes. "I didn't… I was just mad at Wes so I flipped out on him and I don't—I don't even know why I brought up what he said—"

"It's okay," James said seriously, and I reached up to push some of my rainbow hair out of my face, looking up at my best friend intensely, trying to gauge how much he meant the words. "I'm stupid, okay? I like you fine, you're my best friend, I don't even—" He awkwardly fell silent, ducking his head as his cheeks burned red, and I just covered the space between us in a half step, wrapping my arms around him tightly, hiding my face in his chest, tears beading in my eyes. James's arms wound around me relievedly, and I had to resist the urge to sag against him with how incredibly nice it felt to be okay with James again.

Things would be okay.

...

"That doesn't make sense." James complained later that day, as I tried (and failed) to make him understand his potions homework.

"How does it not make sense?" I demanded, grinning despite myself as I tapped the paper on the table in front of him. "It's simple--you put a quarter of a teaspoon of--"

"Yeah, I know the ingredients." James retorted, looking exasperated. "I'm not stupid."

"Yeah, sure," I said with a grin, rolling my eyes. "No, but seriously. This is important--you have to understand this concept before we ever hit exams--"

"You guys made up!" Louis noted cheerfully as he bounced to our table, grinning as he looked at us, and James just ignored him, studying the paper before him. I grinned gratefully up at my friend, and Louis sank down beside me, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "And if you two pull that again, I'm going to make my best friend Rory and then my best girl friend Edie and then I'm going to avoid all family events." Louis said seriously, and I laughed a little while James just smirked.

"Don't tease." James said after a second, looking up at Louis. Louis glared at his cousin, but then James grinned hugely, and Louis snorted in laughter, looking away and rolling his eyes.

"You know you'd miss us." I said, rolling my eyes as I elbowed both boys in the ribs. "You know both of you would be lost without me." I laughed, clapping a hand over my heart, and Louis rolled his eyes as James just fixed me a look.

"So dramatic." He said quietly.

"Yeah, I'm the dramatic one." I said, raising an eyebrow. "I don't have a dramatic male best friend or something. Nah. That'd be weird." James sighed exasperatedly, but I just looped my arm through his.

"Hey, Ser, can I talk to you?" Edie said behind me, and I twisted to glance up at her. She held up four torn pieces of paper, and it took me only half a second to realize what she was holding up, and my grin dropped as I climbed backwards over the seat, frowning at her. Four torn pieces of paper--my grandmother's letter. The one she'd sent to scold me after accidentally dying my hair rainbow.

Edie led me away from the boys. Louis was studying James's homework, but James was watching us worriedly, his gaze on us unrepentantly. "What the hell is this?" She demanded in a whisper, shaking the papers a little, and I snatched it back.

"A letter from my grandmother--what are you doing with this?" I demanded angrily, glaring at her as I crumpled the papers in my hand. "These were in my trunk--"

"No, they were on the floor beside your trunk." She said irritatedly, pushing some of her hair out of her face. "But the fact that you missed your trunk isn't the problem--Ser, I glanced over it to figure out whose it was--" she pointed to my hand, "That is _not_ okay, Sera! What she said to you? That was--" Edie's voice dropped more decibels, if that was possible. "She called you a mudblood." She whispered.

"Yeah, she's a racist, Edie. That's _kind_ of what they do." I muttered embarrassedly, a hasty blush rising.

"When the court gave her custody, did they know that?" She asked, and I sighed shortly, fixing Edie with a look. I did not know what planet Edie lived on, but it must hav been a nice one--racist grandmothers didn't get custody of their grandchildren, in Edie's world.

"Being racist isn't a crime. It's annoying as hell but it's not illegal." I told her seriously, and Edie shook her head earnestly.

"You're her granddaughter!" Edie protested, more loudly. Tears burned in my eyes, and I blinked rapidly, hating where this was going.

"Yeah, I know." I muttered.

"She called you--how are you okay with that?" Edie demanded desperately. "How are you not--"

"I'm not okay with it." I hissed at her, losing my patience. "I testified in front of a court of law that she hated us and was racist and that my godparents were good people and James's parents and Louis's parents and Professor Longbottom and the Headmistress _all_ said the same thing and I still somehow got her." I exhaled shortly, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "Sometimes stuff doesn't work out, Edie."

"I'm not stupid, I know that." She said angrily. She paused, taking a deep breath, evidently to calm herself down. "Sera, this is _emotional abuse._ My mum's a muggle social worker--"

"I don't know what to tell you," I said shortly, glaring at her. "Yeah, this sucks. It's not fun, that's for sure. But she's my legal guardian and my godparents can't fight that until October."

"Spending all summer with her isn't a good idea." Edie said firmly.

"Yeah, well, where else do I go?" I demanded quietly. "My godparents are well off but two more kids is a strain on anyone, and beside that they just lost custody which means the court's especially sensitive to boundary stepping by them, my grandmother's got the means but lacks any form of human compassion, and my parents are _gone_." I swallowed, rubbing at my nose as I felt it begin to run, a sure sign that I was getting closer to crying.

Edie watched me sadly for a moment, biting her lip uncomfortably. "Does Wes know?" She asked. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, before I opened them again to shake my head a little. "I know James and Louis don't know." She paused. "Ser..."

"Edie, stop." I said tiredly. "I'm fine. She was just pissed off when she wrote this, she's not always this bad."

"Once is too often." Edie insisted softly. "At least talk to Wes or Alec or James or _anyone_, if you're not comfortable talking to me..."

"What would I say?" I asked her quietly. "Everyone you just listed will get really upset she wrote it. Maybe even, let's say, Alec tells his dad or James tells _his_ dad and this somehow makes it into the next custody case." I crossed my arms across my chest. "Calling someone a mudblood is derogatory language, yeah. It's not illegal, in the same way that cursing isn't illegal." Edie stared at me for a long moment, before she just took a deep breath, shaking her head.

"No reasonable jury would ever let a woman whose called a child a mudblood take care of the child." Edie said.

"She's done it before, they knew that she did, and they thought she was better. Still." I shrugged a little.

"Tell Wes about it." Edie urged finally.

"To what end?" I demanded.

"It might help you." Edie said encouragingly. "He's your big brother, he'd at least tell you she was wrong for saying these things..." She shrugged.

"I'm not even talking to Wes." I muttered, running a hand through my hair. I saw, behind Edie, James get up from his table and make his way over, and I broke away from Edie without another word, walking back to James, smiling shallowly at him as I stopped in front of him.

"You okay?" He murmured, and I held my breath as I lifted my hand, opening it carefully to reveal the torn letter. James frowned a little, but reached out and grabbed the papers, shifting through them as he glanced over them, surmising most of the jumbled letter. It was surprisingly long--both sides of one page--but all of it was what an awful child was. James stopped at the part that he knew would hurt me most: _your father would be ashamed. _"I hate this woman." James murmured, not moving his gaze from the paper.

"Yeah, well, welcome to the club." I said softly, ducking my head. "I wasn't going to tell you about it but Edie found it..." I shrugged, and James looked up at me meaningfully.

"How the hell did the courts give you to her?" He murmured, and I shrugged a little.

"I'm still not sure." I admitted softly. "Especially when the alternative was Dean and Monica--Dean's one of the best lawyers at the Ministry. He should have gotten custody." I paused. "And my grandmother's a known friend-of-death eaters." I shrugged. "Ew." There was a beat of silence, before James handed the papers back to me and slung his arm protectively around my shoulders, hugging me against him with one arm and I leaned my head against his shoulder for a second before I pulled away, walking back to the table as I threw a vague smile back at him. "We've gotta finish up your Potions Homework." I murmured to him, and I saw James stiffen at the obvious change of subject, but let it slide.

I just stuffed the papers back into my robes as I sank down on the bench. Edie's worried tone was still in my head, but I just pushed it out. The less I thought about my grandmother, the less important she was.

Right?

...

"Hey Malcolm!" I said cheerily as I spotted my best friends' roommate sitting a little ways away from me in Defense Agains the Dark Arts. Malcolm raised his eyebrows but raised a hand in acknowledgement, an uncertain smile on his features. It'd been two days since James and I had made up, and things had been fine. My birthday was coming up soon--just nine days--and the only damper on that had been the fact that I still wasn't talking to Wes. We'd even now escalated to that level of not talking where we passed each other in the hallways and glared at each other bitterly. But it would wear off soon enough. These things always idd.

"Hey Ser." He said quietly, and I slid into the seat beside him with a grin, while James reluctantly followed me to sit next to me. James did not like Malcolm--or at least he pretended he hadn't. But when Bethany asked James to join her study group, and he'd told me he didn't like her for a variety of reasons--one of those reasons had been because she was mean to Malcolm. So I think he at least pitied him.

"What're we doing today in Defense, d'you guys know?" I asked them both conversationally when neither one bothered to speak, and James shrugged, shaking his head a little.

"I heard we're seeing a--" Malcolm stopped, tripping over the next word, "um, you know that thing, that turns into--whatever you fear most--"

"Boggart?" Horace Penniweather, a Hufflepuff first year who had recently taken up an obssession with me, demanded, popping up in front of us, and Malcolm nodded.

"Yeah, that." He winced. "I'm not even sure what mine will be, y'know?"

"You don't know what you fear most?" Horace demanded, shocked. "I sure do--"

"I don't know, I've never thought about it that way." I said, frowning a little. "I might know--but I'm also just--I've never really thought about it at all." I shrugged.

"I'm dead scared of dragons." Horace said earnestly, as if this was exciting for him: Horace was very, very stupid. He was always really nice and stuff, but he was _so_ stupid. Like, I-feel-my-brain-cells-dying-right-here-and-now.

"You are?" James asked, confused: when would Horace have had time to ponder his fear of dragons? Had he even ever _seen _a dragon?

"Oh, yeah--when I was a kid, my dad took me to one of those places with dragons in Romania or some place--like, as part of a tour group--but it got super dangerous and the dragon blew fire everywhere." Horace shuddered a little, then looked at James. "Your dad fought a dragon once." He said knowledgably, and I smothered a smile, looking down. "In the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

James didn't respond, and I was saved from having to intervene when Professor McElwee walked in from his office, waving us all down into our seats easily. "Today, as you've probably heard, we're using boggarts." I smiled a little: this was the first practical thing we'd done in class all year. We'd only been studying theory before this. "These are good because they don't pose an actual danger, but it's important to get over the shock of the initial situation in time to respond." He said educationally.

Professor McElwee was an older man, probably the oldest of our teachers, with brown-going-on-gray hair and tanned skin that hadn't quite wrinkled yet. He was generally pretty nice, actually, and aside from Professor Picoult, my Muggle Studies teacher, was one of my favorite teachers.

"Everyone stand up, stand up." McElwee ordered as he pulled a large, padlocked chest out from under his desk, and lugged it around the side of his desk so it was right in front. The Defense Against the Dark Arts room was arranged differently, where we learned with our desks in a very large circle, which left a great deal of space in the middle for discussion, usually. But today, we got to actually practice. "Now, get in line alphabetically, please--and I mean it, I don't want any arguing over who gets to be where." He said with a warning look for us, and I got up carefully, hovering towards the front of the line until enough of a line had formed that I could conclude I was between Rory (Corner) and Alanis Fortier, a Hufflepuff girl.

"Now, the spell for handling the boggart is simple: Riddikulus." Professor McElwee said easily. "But I realize that seeing your worst fear can be frightening--" There were a few titters of laughter, and Rory and I exchanged looks about the bad joke, "so if it takes too long, or you indicate somehow that you need help, I'll of course give you a hand." We all murmured our agreement, and Professor McElwee called Daisy (Auden was her last name, so she was first) forward. Daisy took a few reluctant steps forward, and McElwee opened the box.

And suddenly several cockroaches were crawling out of the trunk.

All the girls screamed, and the guys stumbled backwards: Alanis and I sprinted to the seats on the side of the room and jumped up onto the chairs, and the boys seemed to be trying to retain some dignity while still shying away. "Ew, ew, ew, ew..." I muttered under my breath, and Alanis grabbed my arm nervously, her eyes wide with fright. McElwee raised his eyebrows at the commotion, but was watching Daisy. Who was, essentially, beginning to hyperventilate.

So I held my breath, reminding myself that these were not real cockroaches (they just looked and felt real--ew, ew, ew), and hopped off the chair long enough to grab Daisy's sleeve and tug her backwards towards the other kids.

"_Riddikulus_," She breathed in a shaky voice, and suddenly there was a frog with a little tiny crown on it's head--the Frog Prince, from that fairy tale that we'd all heard as children. Daisy laughed shakily, seemingly unrecovered, and Aileen rushed over to lead her away from me, rubbing her arm comfortingly. I just exchanged looks with James, shaking my head a little as he widened his eyes in the question _What was McElwee thinking?_ I had no freaking idea.

"Alright, next up is Rory Corner." Professor McElwee said quietly, but everyone was still very frazzled and thus not so keen on listening to him, so we just continued to freak out/comfort ourselves. Alanis carefully jumped down, her eyes wide as she wandered over to Maddie Hornbeck, another Hufflepuff girl. I just went to James, crossing my arms uncomfortably.

"Bugs are super gross." I muttered, and James just nodded once, biting his lip as he surveyed the box. "I don't like this exercise at all." I murmured to him. "This is super personal and stuff and I don't want everyone in this room--especially not _Daisy_ knowing what my worst fear is." I sighed explosively. "I'm not even really sure what my worst fear is. I'm scared of a bunch of different stuff but--" I shrugged, considering what I was going to say next carefully. "What if it's super personal?" I asked James worriedly, my voice hushed now, before I looked back at the Frog Prince hopping around on the floor. James and I watched in silence as McElwee chased the tiny beast a few steps.

"I know mine and it is super personal, so if it's any comfort, we can be weirdly open with a quarter of our year together." James said in a sarcastic voice, and I winced, turning towards him to look up at him sympathetically.

"What is yours?" I asked him softly. James didn't even glance at me, just watched the trunk wearily, and I lifted a hand to rub his shoulder comfortingly. James looked so tense: poor kid. "Jamie, c'mon. You know I won't make a deal out of it." James looked down at me for a long moment, his gaze searching my face carefully, before he shook his head once, slowly.

"You'll see." He murmured, looking up and over my head. "Hey, wait, Rory's next." James said quietly. The line had already disintegrated, so James just put an arm around my shoulders and we hovered near the back of the classroom with the rest of the group, watching Rory nervously approach the Frog Prince.

And suddenly, there was a very large (and by very large I mean as tall as the ceiling, not like the muggle definition of 'very large' which is more like two or three inches) spider in front of me. An acromantula. This time more people were sort of frozen, and the thing looked forward and shifted it's giant pincers a little, and I swallowed, before turning towards James and hiding my face in his shoulder. He hugged me tightly to him, and I heard Rory's shaky voice say "Riddikulus,"

"It's safe now." James murmured into my ear, and I peeked carefully, feeling like a huge chicken. Rory's four-year-old brother Logan was now dancing around the front of the classroom in a tutu, and everyone laughed a little. My heart sped up, though, as I realized who was next. Me.

"Who's this?" Professor McElwee asked with an encouraging grin for Rory, and Rory ran an anxious hand through his hair, seemingly catching his breath.

"Uh--my brother, Logan." He said, shaking, and I forced myself forward from my spot in Jamie's arms to go forward to Rory, putting a comforting hand on his back. He looked down at me, his eyes still wide with panic.

"Acromantulas?" I asked softly.

"Just ran into one when I was little, on a trip with my family." Rory shuddered a little. "I didn't even realize..." He stopped, shaking a little, and I winced sympathetically.

"Aww." I murmured. "Poor you!"

"Ugh," Rory rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. "Okay, I'm going to go--hide in the back of the classroom." He shuddered a little, and I turned back to the front of the classroom. Professor McElwee smiled at me supportively. I just looked down at the little twirling boy before me--and I was shocked when it turned into something as mundane as a newspaper.

I frowned, taking a cautious step forward--wasn't this supposed to be my worst fear? Wasn't my worst fear supposed to be--well--scary? I inched closer a few times before I took a couple big steps, covering the final steps and looking down at this imaginary copy of the Daily Prophet.

_Finnigan Couple Found Dead_.

My heartbeat roared in my ears as I stared down at the newspaper that was reporting my parents' deaths, pictures of their bodies in front of me, and I thought I was going to throw up, or faint, or maybe throw up _then_ faint. My eyes ached as I withheld tears and it literally every inch of my energy to wave my wand vaguely in the direction of the newspaper, thinking the spell as I almost always did with spells, rather than say it. My big brother's form in a dress popped up, and I couldn't even gather myself enough to laugh or giggle, and Professor McElwee waved me backwards. I didn't move, though, and suddenly Jaems was in front of me, looking very, very worried. "Ser?" He asked me softly. "Ser, what--what's the matter? What'd the newspaper say?"

"She's scared of a _newspaper_," Daisy's soft murmur made it's way to my ears, and I just blinked away tears, swiping at my eyes.

"Daisy, I swear to Merlin that if you don't _shut up _I will actually kill you." James hissed, focusing on the girl behind me over my shoulder. He put a hand on my elbow, moving me to the side of the classroom, and I sank into a chair there gratefully. James crouched in front of me worriedly. "Ser?"

"It said my parents were dead, their bodies were on the front page--" I shuddered as I spoke, and James sighed heavily, twisting to look contemptfully at the boggart at the front of the room. "Oh, Jesus--"

"It's just--not real." He reminded me softly. "It's just a stupid exercise in class. Your parents are not dead." I sighed shakily, closing my eyes and taking a deep, cleansing breath, before I just shuddered a little once more. "God, McElwee's an idiot for this." James murmured, shaking his head a little as he watched me carefully, and I took a few more deep breaths.

"Good job, Alanis!" My teacher said encouragingly to the Hufflepuff girl who'd gone up after me. "C'mon up... Madeleine Hornbeck!" Professor McElwee said with a big smile, and James and I both threw him irritated glares: this man was an idiot. And to think that he'd been my favorite teacher after Picoult, until today. Who subjected eleven- and twelve-year-olds to their worst fears for "practice"?

I stood up carefully, ducking my head as my cheeks turned red with embarrassment--Daisy was obviously gossiping about me to a very awkward-looking Aileen. James followed my gaze to the two girls, and I heard him curse under his breath before he just walked up to them, scowling darkly at Daisy. "Shut. Up." He said flatly to her, and I walked up behind him, stepping between he and Daisy easily, putting a hand on his chest in an effort to push him back. "You've been torturing Sera since the first freaking day at school and I have no idea why the hell that is but just _leave her alone_ or you'll regret it."

"Don't threaten me!" Daisy protested, but she looked shaky and unsure, her gaze flicking to the teacher behind us for a moment before looking back at James. "And if Sera has a problem with me, she should be mature enough to talk to me about it herself, not send you after me." She scoffed, looking at Aileen conspiratorily. "Then again, she is scared of _newspapers--"_

"Shut _up_!" James ordered angrily, starting forward, but I pushed him backwards.

"Don't James, she's not worth it--" I began frantically, and Rory, who had been watching Maddie Hornbeck have a go at the boggart, began towards us as he caught sight of what was going on.

"Yeah, but this isn't about _her_." James said determinedly, glaring at Daisy. "It's about her torturing you and how it's _stopping_. Now." He shook his head at Daisy, seemingly disgusted. "I'm surprised that Bethany didn't relay this message to you but hey, I'm happy repeating it: no one likes you. You're just some girl who somehow got sorted in Gryffindor when you should obviously be Slytherin and _everyone_ hates you. Aileen, Edie, Rory, Louis, Sera, me--the list goes on. And d'you know what that makes you? _Pathetic_." James fell silent, still glowering at Daisy, though he'd stopped pushing forward so I'd been able to stop trying to force him backwards.

"Mr. Potter!" Professor McElwee sounded appalled. "We do not _bully_ other students!"

Aw, crap.

"He wasn't bullying Daisy!" I protested, taking a side step and disregarding my rule on tattling. "Daisy's--"

"I know what I saw, Miss Finnigan," The man said determinedly.

"But that's not right--"

"Do not talk back to me!" Professor McElwee said angrily. "Both of you--Longbottom's office!" I sighed in exasperation, glaring at the man in front of me.

"James just started _yelling_ at me, Professor--" Daisy began to sniffle, _completely_ faking it, and I turned to her, scowling.

"You are such a little liar--"

"And now _Sera's_ yelling at me too, and after I got so shaken up--"

"Potter, Finnigan, go to Professor Longbottom's office _right now_," Professor McElwee thundered, and I sighed explosively, glaring at Daisy, who didn't drop her act for even a half a second.

"Professor?" Aileen said softly, raising her hand politely, and McElwee fixed her with a look. Aileen didn't look away, though, and McElwee exhaled slowly before raising his eyebrows.

"Yes?" He asked. Aileen's eyes were wide and she looked scared out of her mind. "Miss Quigley, if this isn't immediately relevant to the matter at hand I'll have to ask--"

"Daisy was making fun of Sera."

Oh. My. God.

"She really was--and--Daisy doesn't like Sera and she did the thing with her hair and now she was making fun of the newspaper because she didn't get it and she thought it was an easy target." Aileen said softly, and Professor McElwee stared at us for a moment, having fallen silent the moment Aileen started speaking. "James was defending Sera." I slowly turned to look at James, a slow grin unfurling on my face.

Check Mate.

"Miss Quigley..." McElwee said slowly, before he glanced at Rory. "Mr. Corner, did you see what occurred?"

"Yeah--James was defending Sera. Aileen's right." He sighed. "Sera's been bullied all year."

"Ah." Professor McElwee said quietly. "Alright, um." He fell silent, obviously at a loss. "Miss Finnigan, Mr. Potter, Miss Oakbey, Miss Quigley... Please go to Professor Longbottom's office." He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions, Mr. Potter, Miss Finnigan--"

"You believe this?" Daisy squeaked in what was supposed to be an outraged tone, I would have guessed. She sounded more scared than anything, though.

"I believe it enough to set it in front of your head of house." He said carefully, obviously trying to remain impartial on the matter. "I'm also letting class out early--all four of you, let's go." I exhaled slowly as the other kids grabbed their things slower than usual, watching us with wide eyes. Aileen was already inching away from Daisy, who was looking slightly sickened by the current state of things, and I swallowed, just looking at James again as McElwee shuffled us silently out the door.

We'd just _won_.

Thirty minutes later, the Potters, the Audens and Quigleys had been called into the office, making for a very crowded room as everyone clung to their children. Mrs. Potter, because she seemed to have sensed how lonely I was, had looped and arm around my shoulders, pulling me back against her the way Monica and my mother did, sometimes. Longbottom had offered to call my grandmother, but I'd declined, which I'd gotten to do becuase I was not facing disciplinary action.

"I don't understand." Daisy's mother said slowly. "You're telling me that my daughter has been--"

"Bullying Serafina Finnigan." Professor Longbottom finished with a nod, coming around his desk to lean back against it. "Daisy, as I understand it, has done _several_ things, including dying Sera's hair, mocking her privately with other girls in the dorm, primarily Aileen Quigley and Bethany Oakbey, and even stole a letter from Sera's grandmother and mocked her about it." Daisy's mother looked very shaken, leaning against her father, who looked horrified. Daisy was beet red, sitting between them.

"Oh, Daisy..." Her mother murmured, stroking down her hair. Aileen's parents looked so embarrassed that I felt a little bit bad for them.

"I'm so sorry, Serafina." Aileen's father, a short, stout man with auburn hair and a small beard, said sadly, and I swallowed.

"It's alright." I said softly. "Aileen was kind of my friend most of the year." I shrugged a little uncertainly. "And she admitted to what Daisy did in class." Mrs. Potter squeezed my shoulder comfortingly.

"Daisy--why in the name of God did you do this to Serafina?" Daisy's father asked: he was a tall man in a nice suit, and from what I remembered of Daisy's family description at the beginning of the year, he was a muggle businessman.

"I was..." Daisy's voice drifted off. "I was jealous." She seemed to realize how absurd that was, because she ducked her head. I couldn't help but wonder though: _why_? If my parents were gone and my grandmother was an insane woman and I was stuck with her till October at the very, very earliest--why would she be jealous of me?

"Look, Mr. Auden, Mrs. Auden," Professor Longbottom said quietly. "It's Friday afternoon, there are no classes and Daisy has no weekend commitments. Take your daughter home, talk to her, return her in time for Monday morning classes." He sighed. "We'll talk about consequences then." Mr. and Mrs. Auden nodded.

"Thank you so much, Neville." The woman said softly to Mr. Longbottom. "God I don't even--" She fell silent, shaking her head, before she turned to me. "Sera, I'm so sorry about my daughter's behavior." She shook her head, looking above my head. "Harry, Ginny, I had no idea." She sighed. "Are you taking care of Sera?"

"Not exactly..." Mr. Potter admitted quietly. "I'm investigating Seamus' and their mother's disappearance with Ron and Bill." I swallowed at the reference to my mother; that was the only true reference. She was my mother. Not my father's wife, she didn't have a name--just children.

"Aileen will recieve two weeks worth of detention and twenty points deducted from the house." Aileen looked like she was about to cry as Longbottom moved onto her.

"She was the reason that McElwee didn't blame James for telling Daisy to stop--" I protested, and Mrs. Potter smoothed down my hair maternally.

"Sera." Longbottom said reprimandingly, and I fell silent, swallowing. "Let me finish." I nodded once. "And will recieve thirty points for exemplifying Gryffindor virtues in a difficult situation." Aileen seemed to melt in relief: she hadn't done damage to the house.

"James and Sera will not be punished." Professor Longbottom said quietly. Daisy didn't even react. "Mr. and Mrs. Auden, Mr. and Mrs. Quigley, you may leave now." He paused, smiling at Daisy's mother. "It's been a while, Susan."

"I know..." Mrs. Auden said softly, looking at her daughter sadly. "I'm sorry about that." She paused, looking at me. "I was at school with your father. We weren't perfectly good friends but he was certainly always nice to me." She nodded to Mr. and Mrs. Potter, before looking back at me. "I hope they're okay." She shuffled her own husband and daughter towards the floo behind Longbottom's desk, and they all used the floo at once. Aileen's parents left after, her mother pressing a kiss to her forehead and her dad ruffling her hair before they, too, drifted towards the floo and left. Aileen rose from her seat carefully, looking at Longbottom unsurely.

"Aileen, you may leave, but do me a favor and send Wesley Finnigan in, won't you?" He asked, and Aileen nodded, ducking out of the room unhappily.

And then it was just Jamie, his parents, Longbottom, and me.

"Why d'you wanna talk to Wes?" I asked Longbottom curiously.

"Because I don't trust you to tell him what's happened here and I will not feel like I've done my job fully unless someone's checking in on you regularly." Professor Longbottom said easily, and I nodded a little. I was too elated from this recent turn of events to care that Wes was about to get protective and crap.

It was over.

Daisy wasn't going to bug me ever again, Bethany wasn't going to bother me, it was--over. James spotted my small smile, and smiled back at me, looking seriously pleased for me. I bit my lip before I hugged him tightly, almost knocking us both over. James just wound his arms back around me, and I rested my chin on his shoulder. "Thanks," I murmured, pulling away, and Mrs. Potter looked at me with a generous smile, rubbing my shoulder. "Hi Mr. Potter! Hi Mrs. Potter!"

"Nice to see you, Sera." Mr. Potter said quietly.

"How's school been?" Mrs. Potter asked me.

"Fine..." I said awkwardly. "I miss quidditch, though. A lot." I winced, and James watched me carefully, nodding once. Mr. Potter glanced at Longbottom over our heads.

"Can you really not doing anything about that, Neville?" He asked quietly.

"Ms. MacBride declined to give permission." He sighed, shaking his head. "I can't. And I really, really want to because we need the Chasers but letting her on would be a huge conflict." He shrugged apologetically at me. "It would also look like I was picking favorites and Dean's already organizing the custody trial in October..."

"Really?" I asked, straightening up. "Dean's--"

"Already trying for custody, yes." Lonbgottom said with a smile for me. I grinned a little shyly, surprised. I hadn't heard about this--but it'd been less than a month since I'd been placed in my grandmother's custody. We hadn't really wanted to talk about custody, at all. No one wanted to. "They were surprised by the outcome of the trial. We all were."

"Thanks for not calling her," I said softly. Professor Longbottom nodded once, understanding immediately who _her_ was.

"How has it been with her?" Longbottom asked me gently, seemingly truly interested, and I glanced instinctively at James. He shrugged a little at me, looking at me seriously, and I tilted my head to the little, widening my eyes. James glanced from me to Longbottom before looking back to me. I bit my lip a little, before lookign up at Professor Longbottom.

"She got really mad about the hair." I said softly, reaching up instinctively to touch the ends of my own hair. Longbottom frowned, looking concerned.

"Tell them about the letter." James murmured. I blushed scarlet, glancing at James, who just watched me worriedly.

"Um, she sent me a letter about how--Dad would be ashamed to have a daughter like me." Mr. Potter traded looks with Longbottom worriedly, and Mrs. Potter swept me closer for a hug. "Look, it's--not that big a deal." I muttered uncomfortably. "I know it's not--I know she didn't know him." I paused. "And I've talked to Dean and Monica--Dean sent me a letter on Dad's birthday, it was two days ago? Dean said it wasn't great about the hair and doing it back to Daisy wasn't right but he still loved me and stuff and I know that Dean and Dad had more in common than Dad and Dad's Mum ever will." I bit my lip.

"That's very smart of you, sweetheart." Mrs. Potter said softly to me, smoothing down my hair as she pulled away from the hug. "Your father would never be ashamed of you. Never." I nodded uncomfortably--my grandmother was a crazy person, I knew that. You couldn't listen to crazy people.

"Professor Longbottom?" Wes asked from the doorway: the door had been open, and now my big brother was standing there unsurely, glancing at me. "You sent Aileen for me?"

"Wes, come in." Professor Longbottom said quietly. Wes obeyed, smiling tightly at the Potters as he came forward to shake Mr. Potter's hand: Mrs. Potter hugged him briefly, and Wes pulled back with a more relaxed smile. "There was an incident today--you should know and Sera didn't want me to contact your grandmother." Wes winced, then nodded once, glancing down at me, but I avoided his gaze determinedly.

"Everything okay?" He asked me quietly, and I shrugged. "Kiddo, I'm sorry, okay, but not right now." He murmured, and I just shrugged.

"Sera's had some trouble with bullies." Longbottom said quietly, and Wes frowned worriedly.

"What happened?" He demanded.

"Things have been going on for a while… Sera's hair was a result of it, but today things had escalated again." Longbottom said quietly, and Wes glanced down at me, looking for an explanation.

"Daisy was making fun of what my boggart was." I said irritatedly. "And James defended me and I tried to tell him it didn't matter and then McElwee thought James was bullying Daisy and I tried to convince him otherwise but he didn't believe me because I think he still thought I was overreacting to my boggart or something and then Aileen told him what was happening which was really nice of her and then wound up here."

There were a few beats of silence as Wes digested that before he frowned. "What was your boggart?" He asked, and I swallowed.

"A newspaper reporting Mum and Dad were dead." I said quietly, and Wes stared at me for a minute before he sighed heavily, running a hand over my hair, letting his hand rest on my shoulder.

"Jeez." He muttered under his breath. I just looked forlornly up at him, and Wes glanced up at Longbottom. "You're gonna punish them, right?"

"Two weeks of detention for Aileen for previous involvement and when Daisy returns she will be receiving detention as well." Longbottom said calmly.

"A lot of detention?" Wes said hopefully, and I smothered a smile as I ducked my head. Wes pulled me against him in a one-armed hug, and I smiled a little.

"A lot of detention." Longbottom said with a smile. "And Wes—I've gotta ask—did you know what was going on?"

"No." Wes said definitively. "Sera told me she was okay after the hair thing."

"I _was_ okay." I retorted, and Wes snorted in sarcastic laughter, and I stuck my tongue out at him. Wes ruffled my hair and I ducked away, pulling a face.

"Alright." Longbottom said with a smile. "Well, you all can go…" Longbottom fixed me with a look. "Sera, in the future, if you bring this to me before, say, your hair is Technicolor, I can fix it."

"She doesn't tattle." Wes said as explanation, shaking his head a little as he rolled his eyes. "Our godbrother ground it into her so they could do stuff back home without getting in trouble. And they never got in trouble but now Sera's got some screwy rules about this stuff." Wes fixed me with a look. "It'd take something outrageously line-crossing to get her to fess up."

James' parents said goodbye, and James blushed but let them hug him before he sidled over to me. Mr. and Mrs. Potter stepped into the floo and flooed away. "I'll see you all at dinner." Professor Longbottom told us by way of a dismissal, and I grabbed James and pulled him into the hallway before I hugged him, hard.

"Daisy got caught," I squeaked, my arms tightly around his neck, and James chuckled, hugging me back. I pressed my face into his shoulder, inhaling, and I squeezed my eyes shut: James smelled so distinctly like _James_. Like…pine. Sort of—it was hard to explain, but it was the millionth reason why I loved James so much.

I lifted my face and spotted Wes glancing back at us with a knowing look as he walked away, and my stomach lurched as I considered what Wes had said: James liked me. James had specifically said that wasn't true.

But I might have liked James.


	31. Not Afraid

Chapter 31

_Happy Birthday Serafina!_

_Serafina's Birthday Celebrations!_

_Finnigan Girl turns Twelve._

_Serafina Finnigan Turns Twelve Without Parents._

There were more, but I didn't even dignify them with a glance. Either way, I'd gotten seven magazines and newspapers featuring my face and birthday wishes for me. A letter and a package from my godparents, a letter and a package from Mr. and Mrs. Potter, and a letter and a package from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had kind of blown me away.

And I hadn't even made it through breakfast.

It'd been a week and a half since Daisy had gotten caught, and when she'd returned to school, she'd gotten a month of detention, and forty points deducted from the house. And it sounded like her parents had been super mad. And for all that I felt bad that her parents were obviously having a rough time with the concept of their daughter being a bully, I had done a little bit of a happy dance when I'd gotten word of her punishment. Daisy had gotten what she deserved.

"How're you going to get this stuff upstairs?" Edie asked me curiously, as she eyed the pile as she came up to the table. The presents were piled in my spot in the Great Hall, where Louis, James, our various friends, and I, always sat. Edie passed Louis, who was standing across the table from me, to sit beside him, grabbing the pitcher of orange juice. She seemed unphased by my giant pile of gifts. Louis just seemed to be tolerating the gifts, though he did seem displeased that they were spilling over onto his plate and silverware.

"I feel intimidated now…" Louis whined, even as he proffered a wrapped present, and I grinned hugely at him, accepting it with a shy smile.

"Don't worry…" I murmured, grinning a little at the pile before me. "I can't believe your guys' parents got me presents." I said with a small grin, and James snorted in laughter.

"Aunt Ginny wants to adopt you." Louis pointed out, even as he clambered over the bench to sit down. "Aunt Hermione—and you've never lived with her and maybe never met her—wants to adopt you." He grinned at James across the table. "Jamie talks about you so much that she says she feels like she knows—ow! _Merlin_, James!" Louis grumbled, reaching under the table to rub his leg where James had kicked it. "You kick so _damn_ hard…"

"James, don't beat up Louis." I scolded as I sat down beside James. Louis rewarded me with a grin, and I lifted the presents carefully, putting them in the seat to my left, that Jamie wasn't occupying. I glanced over the magazines again, looking at the _Serafina Finnigan Turns Twelve Without Parents_ for a moment longer than the rest of them. I looked at the picture of me—from last summer, with Alec's arm around my neck, both of grinning at the camera—before I sighed heavily, folding the paper in half and pushed it, too, to the side. It wasn't worth the thought. The newspaper didn't matter.

"We're family." James said, as if that somehow excused everything, and I giggled, shoving his shoulder a little. Louis looked like he was going to jump in, but Alec slid into the seat beside me, slinging an arm around my shoulders.

"Happy birthday." Alec said with a grin, using the arm around my shoulder to pull me down so he could ruffle my hair, and I squirmed away, glaring at him as combed through my hair with my hands, pushing down the Technicolor strands. "Your present's in my room and please tell mum you like the present she got for you because she will _not_ stop bugging me about it. Seriously. It's kind of crazy." He shuddered. "You would not believe how many catalogs I had to look through to get her off my back. She really wanted me to pick it out." I snickered, just imagining an annoyed Alec flipping through the catalogs that Monica was subscribed to. Alec was evidently no longer thinking about that, though: he was eying the magazines before us. "Aww, I forgot you had papparazzi." He said in a fawning voice, but that dropped as he continued, picking up the magazines and newspaper. "Jesus, you've got like... nine, ten--this is twelve different things with your picture."

"I'm that cool." I reminded Alec with a grin.

"Mm-hmm, yeah." Alec muttered. "You're the coolest thing here. Except, y'know. Me." I rolled my eyes, laughing quietly, and Alec put the newspapers back down. "Anyway, I'm going to go back to my friends now because I'm much, much cooler than you." Alec grinned hugely, and I just rolled my eyes as my godbrother rose to his feet. He ruffled my hair again, and I shoved him off down the walkway between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables. Edie burst out laughing about something, and I turned back to my friends, hooking my arm with Jamie's before leaning my head against this shoulder, smiling hugely. This was a pretty good party, parents or no parents.

………

"Homework's stupid." James decreed irritatedly, and I snorted in laughter, glancing at him over my own homework. "No, seriously—and it's your birthday. You should not be doing homework." He shook his head emphatically.

It'd been hours since breakfast, and it was now post-quidditch practice (James's, no longer mine), and James and I were doing our Transfiguration and Potions homeworks together—James was crap at Potions, and I was awful at Transfiguration, so it balanced out. We were sitting at one of the little tables on the side of the Common Room, the only seating that was still available by eight thirty on school nights. Most seating got snagged by the older kids, somehow—they were just better at grabbing it earlier, I supposed.

"Try telling Rostov that." I muttered, glaring down at my homework. "And Picoult wants a three foot scroll on computers and cell phones and how muggles make do without magic." James and I winced in unison—that was a seriously broad topic. "Thank God Dad's Dad was a muggle or I don't know what I'd be doing in that class." I shrugged.

"Your dad's dad was a muggle?" James asked me, frowning. I nodded. "As in—didn't he—have to—how did your grandparents have a child together if your dad's mum hates anyone who isn't a Malfoy or a Black?"

"I don't know who either of those people are." I said firmly. "And she got really super racist after the Second Wizarding War—" I shrugged a little, falling silent. "She divorced Grampa just a couple months after it and then disowned Dad like a year later." I glanced down at my paper uncomfortably. "Because he married Mum." I let out a quiet, ironic laugh. "Turned out that was unnecessary, huh? Since they weren't even married." I looked back up at James with a fake smile, and James just watched me sympathetically, letting me ramble on about my screwy family. "The weird thing is, we celebrated their anniversary. Or they did, anyway. Went out to dinner every year, Wes and me stayed with Dean and Monica." I bit my lip. "I hate to think that they've been lying to us all these years but I guess it's unavoidable, huh?"

"They didn't—do it maliciously, I don't think." James said slowly, and I felt my eyebrows rise up my forehead of their own accord. "Look, I never met your mum and I think I only saw your dad in passing once when I was with my dad and they saw each other on the street, but it's—from what I've heard about your dad, from my dad and from you, and about your mum…" James fell silent. "I think that your parents hid stuff from you, and yeah, it _sounds_ like it was big stuff, but it's not really, y'know? It's really stuff that didn't—matter as much as you think it does." I was outright staring at Jamie, now. "I mean, yeah. Names are kinda important." I would have laughed at how obvious that fact was, but I was still recovering from the shock of the _point_ of what James was saying. "But names aren't everything. You _know_ your mum. She speaks Italian and took you and Wes to Canada with your dad, and she loves the Roman Red Caps and a bunch of other stuff. So what if her name isn't Elisabeth Finnigan." He shrugged a little. "Don't get me wrong, you're still completely in the right to be hurt that she lied to you or didn't tell you, or something. Just…she obviously cared about you. A lot." He sighed. "And that's gotta count for something."

I stared at Jamie for a few moments of silence, letting the general noise of the Common Room wash over us for a second. James held my gaze for a second, before he blushed hastily, the red-coloring scattering over his face, and looked down at the table. I felt a tiny smile crack my own lips: James was _right_. I didn't know my mum's name. And she wasn't legally married to my father or really even legally my mother, though Wes had vague memories of me being born and Dean and Monica had both sworn to us and the Auror department ten times over that she had been pregnant with us and Monica had been in the delivery room when we were born, Dean in the waiting room with my Dad. So she was our mother. But I did _know_ her. In all the ways that were important, she was my Mum. She'd taught me to walk and talk and been there when I fell off the monkey bars or was scared to let go of the wall in Dean and Monica's pool.

"Thanks, Jamie." I said softly. James glanced up at me, and I just smiled, genuinely as I could, at him. "That means a lot. Just cause—you're so, so right." I pushed some of my hair out of my face. I looked at James seriously for another moment, my mind racing, before I sighed, looking down at my paper again.

"Hey, I didn't mean to—get you sad, or anything, okay?" James said softly, and I looked up at him. He sounded so torn that I felt really bad for him, and smiled a little at him, unsurely.

"You didn't get me sad." I reassured him. "Look, my mum's—a weird subject, yeah. She's probably going to be a weird subject for a really long while." I swallowed, trying to maintain my courage to finish up this conversation. "But I trust you. I know you're not going to talk badly about her or make me feel bad or anything." I smiled a little shallowly. "I trust you." I echoed softly. James blushed a little more, but continued.

"I trust you too." He said softly, and we just looked at each other for a second before something that had been bugging me sprang to mind.

"I'm going to ask you this and I'm going to pray that you don't get really mad again." I said softly, in build up, and James looked up at me wearily, frowning a little.

"When was I ever really mad at you?" He demanded, sounding concerned. I fixed him with a look and he just frowned back at me: he didn't remember. Apparently our argument over his birthday had been more traumatizing for me than him. I saw his expression change, though, as I opened my mouth: he just remembered. His face darkened seriously.

"Why d'you hate your birthday?" I asked him quietly, and James sighed heavily, putting down his pen. He glanced away from me, looking towards the fireplace for almost an entire minute of silence. Were he anyone else, I would have said that he didn't have to answer it. But James was too important to me to let this kind of thing slide—it obviously _really_ bothered him. And I needed to know how that happened so that I was never the source of that bother. I also trusted James to simply tell me he wasn't going to answer that if he didn't intend to.

"Look, I know it sounds stupid." He said flatly, turning back to me. "And maybe it is. But my birthday is the same day as my dad's godfather's birthday." He sighed. "Sirius. It's my middle name, the guy pretty much was my dad's dad from when Dad was thirteen to when Sirius died in Dad's fifth year." James ran a hand through his hair, and I watched Jamesie painfully: I knew the story of Sirius Black. Everyone, did, now. Peter Pettigrew had framed him for his best friends' deaths, and his best friends had happened to be James's grandparents. Sirius had gone to Azkaban for a bunch of years, then been the first ever to break out and had found James's dad and convinced him of his innocence—I was unclear on the details, but that was the basic gist of it. "Dad is always in the mood from hell on my birthday." James continued after a second. "And I can't blame him, y'know? Sirius—Jeez, dad ran through like ten adults in his lifetime who all died." He sighed. "Like, Teddy's dad? He was my grampa's other best friend—And he died." James ran a hand through his hair nervously, watching me to see how I was reacting. "I just feel bad trying to celebrate a day that brings up so much awful stuff for my dad. So I stopped celebrating a while ago…" He shrugged. "I still get presents and stuff, but I try to get it over with super fast so I don't make it too hard for Dad."

"James, you're a really good person, y'know that?" I asked him softly. James blushed, but held my gaze this time, before he smiled a little. "I'm being serious. You're a really, really good person." I sighed, tilting my head to the side a little. "But I don't think you need to be this worried about it, Jamie. I won't pretend to be an expert on your dad, but I know he loves you." I tilted my head to the side a little, scrutinizing my best friend. "I know he'd hate it if he knew that you were so worried about this." I sighed softly.

Everything would be okay, as long as I had Jamie.

………

"Slytherin's going to get crushed." Edie said gleefully as we sat in the stand, a week later. I grinned at Edie, nodding. "Seriously, this is the best ever." She continued. "Seriously—and James is going to be actually _good_ this game." She continued, and I turned a defensive glare at her.

"Jamie's one of the best on the team." I retorted, and Edie sighed exasperatedly, rolling her eyes at me.

"Yes, yes, I know, James Potter is the second coming of Merlin, I know, I know." Edie said dramatically, and I just continued to scowl. "No, but seriously, Ser—you saw his beating skills last game. You know how bad he was—and you know _why_." She said significantly. My scowl softened, and I blushed, looking back towards the field, looking out across the stands, looking at the Slytherin kids across the way. My gaze locked with Greg Landau's and he looked away a half beat later. I just looked back at Edie. "You _like_ him." She said with a grin, poking me.

"Who?" I demanded, and Edie fixed me with a look. "No—James?" I asked, and Edie nodded slowly, like I was too stupid to understand anything faster. "No."

"Yes." Edie argued.

"No-o-o-o…" I dragged the word out, and Edie raised an eyebrow, obviously unconvinced. "Look, Jamie's legitimately my best friend, Edie." I glared at her. "And we're like twelve." I shrugged. "We're not—old enough or anything like that, for that."

"Sera, you don't have to marry him." Edie said, laughing as she grinned at me. "I just think you like him." She shrugged. "You don't even have to go to a dance with him if you don't wanna." I fixed her with a doubtful frown, and she raised her hands in surrender. "Seriously, Sera. I only want to _know_. I think it's important I _know_. You two are both friends of mine." I snorted in laughter.

"That by no means makes you elgible for this information." I pointed out. "I don't even know if James likes me, and I'm _me_. If anyone knew that, it'd be me. Or Louis." I grinned at her disappointed expression. "Don't think I know you don't just want some good gossip." I teased, and Edie pouted.

"I get _bored_ now that Daisy's not talking to me." She said dramatically, and I winced, glancing at her sympathetically. She flashed me a reassuring smile. "I'm not _mad_ that Daisy's not talking to me. It's understandable on all sides of the equation. She just was interesting to gossip with, even if she was super witchy to you." I grinned at the replacement word, turning back to the pitch.

"_Coming out to the field for Gryffindor are…Selma Langer, Wes Finnigan, James Potter, Teddy Lupin, Grace McClellan, Nelly Vane, and Minna Dukelow! Let's pray our beaters have a little more skill today…" _Eric's voice came over the loud speaker, and I threw a defensive glare in the vague direction of Eric. He'd gotten Gerard DuEfee to do the record-keeping today because I was apparently too big of a bummer to sit next to. Last game, I'd been fighting with James and Wes, which had made me pretty much unhappier than ever before, so I guess it was understandable, but I still wasn't particularly pleased about it.

"He's so whiny." I muttered as my ex-teammates flew onto the field, taking a lap before they assumed their usual positions on the field: James and Wes in front of the goalposts, the three chasers lined up about twenty feet in front of them, then Selma twenty in front of _them_, and then forty feet in front of _her_, in the middle of the field, Teddy and the Slytherin Keeper Danny Diablo. We were playing Slytherin again, because this year the tournament was between our two houses, and we just played them seven times, or until one team won four times. Whichever came first.

"He just calls it like he sees it." Edie told me with a grin, and I grinned despite myself, flicking her. She just laughed.

"Hey Finnigan!" Owen O'Rourke called out, and I looked at my brother's arch-enemy. The way I had Brian Gallagher, Wes had Owen O'Rourke. Owen had been plaguing Wes for years—Last year, Wes's third year, he'd gotten four days of detention for a fight with Owen. And the arguments just went on like that. "Watch your back!" The Slytherin kids whooped as a crowd, and Wes just raised his eyebrows, smirking at the boy.

"Somehow, I'm not that scared." Wes called back, and while the teachers shot both boys disapproving looks, I knew that neither of them would get in trouble. The competitiveness between the two houses they were both in would drown out anything that wasn't completely within the lines.

"_Looks like we've got a competition between our two Irish Lads…"_ Duane called out with an faked Irish accent, and a couple of people tittered. Wes barely had an Irish accent—a hint of it he'd learned from our father—but Owen's was as thick as my father's.

Professor Wood chucked the quaffle high in the air and Teddy and Danny shot up for it. I could have sworn I saw Danny purposely swerve too close to Teddy, so his hand hit Teddy's chin on the way up, making his head jerk up and back, but it moved too fast, and Teddy just leapt up and got the quaffle first anyway.

"These got so violent…" Edie said unhappily. I raised my eyebrows at her—yeah, and _duh_—but she just had her eyes locked on the game, so I went back to watching.

_"And Lupin's down the field with the quaffle, tailed by Diablo—and Diablo's catching up with him! Potter and Gallagher are already in conflict…looks like they have problems off the field, too. Maybe over a certain girl?"_ I felt my face flush as most of the Gryffindors and Slytherins looked straight at me, and Edie ducked her head, smothering a smile. James and Brian, mid-air and engaged in a who-can-hit-the-bludger-first battle, both blushed, looking towards me. How was the fact that Brian hated me and James may or may not but probably didn't like me common knowledge? Eric whooped, evidently excited at having hit a nerve. I glared at him darkly. Eric was dead to me.

"_Langer and Ruffin are neck-to-neck for the snitch!_" Eric suddenly jumped back in, evidently coming back to commenting on actual quidditch, and my gaze flicked from to James to Selma, who was indeed trying to beat her second-year counterpart to the snitch. But then Owen O'Rourke unhelpfully hit a bludger towards Selma and Victor Ruffin, and I winced as both of them dropped like deadweight on their brooms in order to avoid the ball—and successfully lost the snitch.

Wes slammed into Owen with a side-tackle-like move, and Owen didn't hesitate, turning and swinging back with a heavy fist. Wes grabbed Owen's fist and went for a punch himself, but lost his grip on Owen's hand—Wes connected with Owen's face, and two seconds later, Owen's fist hit Wes's eye. I winced as the teachers began to blow the whistles that were supposed to stop all of this stuff.

But my brother being my brother, he didn't stop.

Owen and Wes were crashing down now, going at each other for all they were worth, their beaters' bats long since forgotten as they plummeted to the ground. Wes's fist his Owen's nose and successfully caused blood to come gushing out of it—but Owen hit Wes's stomach, and I could imagine the pain from that. They hit the ground pretty hard, but didn't stop for a second, still going at the fight as if they were the only people on the field, and Owen tackled Wes, strattling him and beginning to pound his face in—and then Wes was flipping them over, crushing _him_. And then Teddy and Danny Diablo were both on the ground beside them. Selma was the only one still in the air, in fact—She had strict instructions from Teddy that until Professor Wood herself told her to get her butt down on the ground, she was to stay airborne.

Everyone in the stands had bounced to their feet now, gaping down at the pitch, and I followed suit: this was not something that happened often. Yeah, people took swipes at each other all the time. But this actual fight—between Wes Finnigan, Youngest Ever of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile, and Owen O'Rourke, Slytherin bully, no less—and the actual injuries being sustained were not common. Especially because, even from my spot in the stands, I could see that this was not lightening up: Owen and Wes were still beating the crap out of each other. All of their teammates were on the ground now, but no one had moved closer to them to try to pull them apart—until Teddy slammed forward with Danny Diablo. Teddy hauled Owen off of Wes—that had been the current who's-on-top situation—and Danny tugged Wes back. Wes shoved himself to his feet as Owen struggled against Teddy, but then both boys were being pushed back by teachers. I winced at the brief glimpse I got of Wes's face as he struggled to get out of Danny's grip, and I turned to Edie, my mouth open with my shock. She just shook her head wordlessly: she had no more idea what was going on than I did. Wes didn't fight with people for the hell of it—even the only fight he'd had before, in his third year, with Owen, had been miniscule, barely a fight. Wes was nice, and _great_ big brother. Great big brothers didn't get in huge fights that could get them in some serious trouble—especially when he claimed to want custody of me when he turned seventeen. That was only one year and nine months away.

_Merlin_, I thought to myself as I watched Longbottom shoved Wes back in an effort to restrain him. _Don't mess this up, Wes_.

………

A half hour later, I was allowed into the hospital wing by a very reluctant Madame Pomfrey. I walked inside, my worried gaze shifting past Teddy and Selma, both of whom looked pretty pissed off, as well as Professors Longbottom, Gilbert, Picoult and Lovegood, and the Headmistress to spot Wes. My brother had a new scar on his forehead and a more crooked nose than before—he'd broken it, and he had a bandage around his knuckles and wrapped around his wrist. "Wes, what the hell _was_ that?" I muttered as I walked up to him, looking at him seriously. Wes looked up at me incredulously, and I just pushed my hair out of my face. "You don't just _fight_ with people—"

"Sera, save the lecture, okay?" Wes said irritatedly. "I have the headache from hell, my hand legitimately feels like it's about to fall off—"

"That's _your_ fault, idiot!" Selma shot at him from behind me, and Wes shot her a scowl. I twisted to watch Selma just put her hands on her hips, pursing her lips as she met Wes' gaze challengingly. Wes just scowled stubbornly at her. "You didn't have to fight him—"

"Sel, stop." Wes muttered, lifting his hand to press it to his forehead, and Selma did fall silent, turning away from her boyfriend. Teddy put an arm around Selma's shoulders, and I looked past them to Owen, who similarly had his team captain, Danny Diablo, there, as well as a Slytherin boy in Wes's year who scared me.

"What did he _say_?" I asked softly, looking back to Wes for an explanation. "Seriously, Wes. You _aren't_ the kind of person who just flips out and punches someone. That's—not you." I tilted my head to the side, before repeating myself. "What'd he say?"

"Later." Wes insisted quietly, looking down at the cot he was sitting on. I just shook my head, and turned away as well, ignoring Wes's betrayed look. As much as I wanted to have faith that Wes had every reason on earth to flip on Owen, I _didn't_. We were having the year from hell. And I knew Wes. And I knew how very _Wes_ it would be to break his perfect streak with something like this. The thing was, even though I knew all that, I was still disappointed. Wes wasn't a perfect big brother, but he was pretty damn good. He'd grown up a lot in the last few months, mostly for my sake—it hadn't escaped my notice that he'd stopped engaging in petty tiffs, had taken responsibility for making sure my uniform fit properly and when it didn't, getting it fixed. He did stuff like that, now. So for Wes, a fight was kind of…somehow out of character and predictable, all at the same time.

"Alright, Mr. Finnigan, Mr. O'Rourke," the Headmistress said quietly, capturing everyone's attention with the coolness in her voice. "I would like to start with saying how disappointed I am with this presentation. You two are both good students and have had few disciplinary problems in the past." She looked at Wes pointedly. "I daresay that I am not the only one disappointed in your behavior." Wes didn't meet her gaze, and Selma sighed exasperatedly. "First I would like to inform you both that you will be punished. A week's detention each, and twenty points from each house." Professors Gilbert and Longbottom, behind her, fixed their respective students with glares, Longbottom's particularly lethal: Gryffindor had lost a lot of points, recently, mostly through escapades involving Wes and me.

"Secondly," Headmistress Patil continued. "You will be both be informing your parents or guardians of these transgressions." I felt the bottom of my stomach drop out. "We'll be calling them into Hogwarts through the floo." She paused, and I turned to look at Wes, whose expression had hardened.

"Sera, leave." He ordered quietly, and I frowned at him, blushing a little as I realized everyone was watching us suddenly.

"No." I murmured. Wes turned to scowl at me, but I saw the shock in the way his eyebrows drew together: he'd expected me to obey, and not out of respect to his authority. He just assumed that I didn't want to be around our grandmother as much as he didn't want me around our grandmother. And he wasn't wrong. But I wasn't going to leave Wes with her, alone. I mean—not _technically_ alone, but at least she'd have two targets instead of one.

"_Leave_." He said powerfully, and I shook my head, scowling back.

"I'm not leaving you alone with her." I muttered.

"And as long as you're my responsibility, I'm not leaving you with her when I can help it." Wes growled back. "I'm serious, Sera. You can't be here when she is." I felt my breath catch in my throat as tears jumped to my eyes: I knew why Wes was doing this, and while it was thoughtful, a little bit, it still stung to have him push me away so bluntly.

"You can't make me do anything." I muttered, and I saw the surprise register on Wes's face.

"If I'm not in charge of you than who is? Her?" He asked me, meanly, and I winced internally, but held my ground and my stubborn expression. "Sera, leave."

"No." Wes cursed under his breath, looking away from me, and I just glanced up at Patil angrily. She knew what she was doing by implementing this—she knew our grandmother. And how she'd react. She'd testified at the trial, and moreover, had heard my testimony. She had to know. So as angry as I was with my brother for getting his stupid butt involved in this fight, she was the one who was driving the stake all the way from Wes's fighting to us getting reamed out by my crazy grandmother.

"I'll call her." Longbottom said quietly: there was no question whether Owen's parents or my grandmother was being called first. I crossed my arms defensively, and I just watch the door to Pomfrey's office as Longbottom disappeared into it. Teddy sighed, shooting me a sideways look.

"Squirt, maybe you should listen to Wes." Teddy said quietly, and I just shook my head, tensing my jaw unintentionally. "James told me about the letter, it sounds like she can be pretty harsh when she's mad. You don't have to be here for that—you didn't do anything wrong."

"Thank you." Wes muttered.

"This isn't about helping you." Teddy snapped at Wes, sparing him a half-glance. "Seriously, squirt. It sounds like you'll have plenty of times to be there for Wes over the summer, you don't have to be here for this round—"

"I have exactly one family member left who doesn't hate me." I muttered, glaring at Teddy challengingly. I saw, in my peripherals, Wes run a miserable hand down his face. "I'm not abandoning Wes. I don't care that he was a complete _jackass _today. I'm not doing it." I said finally, and Teddy winced, but fell silent.

"What's going on?" Danny Diablo finally asked, his suspicious gaze flicking from Teddy to Wes, and then finally, to me. "What's wrong with your grandmother?" No one responded, and the Slytherin boy, who was effectively twice my height and probably four times my weight, turned back to Owen with a troubled look frown. And then Pomfrey's door was flung open, and our grandmother was before us once more.

She said nothing as she approached us, but her face was red and she was scowling darkly; despite Wes's angry words a moment before, he rose to his feet, stepping in front of me, and I stepped up a little behind him, so I was still visible. "I am _so_ ashamed." She hissed at my brother in a tight voice. "So help me God you will _never_ leave the house this summer and you and your mudblood sister will learn to bring _respect_ to me or I will home school you both." She glanced at me passingly. "You look ridiculous." She hissed. "I cannot imagine how either of you contain even a drop of MacBride blood in you, or how your father—he would be so ashamed, he would not dare show his face." She scoffed. "Only your filthy mother would have—"

"My mother isn't _filthy_." I muttered,

"She's a mudblood, just like you two brats." My grandmother said, her eyes flashing as she grabbed my arm, jerking me out from behind my brother, and I winced as I stood on tiptoe in an effort to relieve the pressure: Wes reached forward, his eyes sharp on my grandmother's face. She jerked me back and Teddy reached out, his hand closing around my grandmother's wrist.

"Let her go." Teddy said quietly, and my grandmother glared at him.

"Who are you?" She demanded meanly.

"Teddy Lupin." Teddy said quietly. "You're hurting Sera and you need to let her go."

"You're Remus Lupin's son?" She demanded, and Teddy straightened up, nodding once. "Get your hands off of me, Halfblood." Aww, hell. I didn't even know what that meant, but judging by the suddenly lethal look on Teddy's face, I knew it wasn't good. Teddy didn't respond, and my grandmother jerked me towards my brother, releasing me, and I winced as I stumbled into Wes. My brother caught me, his arms wrapping tightly around me, and I just stared, shocked, at the woman before us.

"I assume you will punish Wesley severely." She said strongly, turning to Professor Longbottom as though none of that had ever happened.

"We will punish Wesley as we see fit." Professor Longbottom said carefully.

"What if I believe you are being too lax?" My grandmother asked, and Wes rolled his eyes, but looked down at me, inspecting my arm with a worried frown. I shrugged a little, and my brother sighed, looking up at Longbottom worriedly, who just looked at him seriously.

"You will have to, unfortunately, accept the verdict." The Headmistress said quietly. I winced as she spun back to face us, and Wes reacted quickly, releasing me and twisting so he was once more between us. Only, this time, I couldn't see my grandmother.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Wes said quietly. "Because you've now insulted me, and my sister, and my parents, and our friend." Wes's voice was very measured, but I knew he was angry. "And you hurt my sister."

"She isn't hurt—"

"Because Teddy stopped you. Because I caught her." Wes said firmly. "You would have hurt her and that means you can't be here." There were a few beats of silence before my grandmother continued.

"You can't protect her forever." She said finally, then she turned on her heel and walked past our professors, back into Pomfrey's office. After a moment, I heard the echo of the floo. My brother turned to face me, worriedly, and I just bit my lip uncomfortably, looking at my arm.

"Jesus, Sera, I told you to leave for a reason…" Wes murmured, even as he lifted me onto the bottom of the bed. I frowned at him unhappily, but he was inspecting my arm. "Oh, crap, she hurt you—"

"I'll fix it." Madame Pomfrey said quietly, coming up beside us, inspecting the red mark on my arm.

"I'm not cut or anything—" I protested quietly, and Wes shot me a dark look.

"I hate that that's your criteria." He murmured. "I hate that you have that kind of criteria."

"You'd have bruised." Madame Pomfrey pointed out softly, and I blushed, looking away, even as she tapped my arm with her wand, and I winced. Wes ran a hand through his hair exhaustedly, and Madame Pomfrey straightened up apologetically, looking across the room to Professor Longbottom silently, and I just glared down at the bed.

"Ted, Man…" Wes said quietly, and I glanced up at my ex-quidditch captain. Teddy just shook his head a little at Wes, and I sighed, closing my eyes and pressing the heels of my hands into them. "I'm sorry…"

"Not your fault." Teddy said tightly. "That woman's a piece of work, though."

"Agreed." Wes said tiredly, and I glanced up at him apologetically. Wes looked down at me, and I bit my lip.

"Sorry, Wes." I murmured, and my brother sighed, turning away from me for a second before he turned back, fixing me with a serious look.

"You didn't do anything wrong, okay?" Wes asked me softly. I shrugged, looking down at the blanket and picking at it a little bit. In the edge of my vision, I saw Wes turn back to Patil. "Why did you ask her here?" Wes demanded, sounding angry, and I swallowed unhappily. "Why couldn't you ask Sera to leave so she wouldn't have to be here--?"

"Honestly, Mr. Finnigan, because I don't believe any amount of detention I give you will matter, in terms of this obvious issue that you and Mr. O'Rourke have yet to work out." The Headmistress said cooly. "And I realize that this may seem somehow frivolous right now in the wake of the injury that Miss Finnigan nearly sustained, but it's important that you feel the impact of the fight you got in today." Wes was gaping at the Headmistress, but I couldn't bring myself to look up from the bed, my face flaming.

"So you let an insane woman come here and threaten my little sister because you thought that would be the only thing that would have an impact on me?" Wes repeated slowly, his voice nearly shaking with his anger.

"I let your grandmother come here because it is school rules that when a student violates the Code of Conduct to such an extent that fifteen points or more are deducted that the legal guardian or parent of the student has a right to be present at the school to reprimand their child his or herself." Longbottom said professionally, throwing the Headmistress a withering glare.

"Of course you did." Wes muttered angrily, and I glanced across the room at the Slytherin kids: Owen seemed thoroughly disinterested in what was going on, as did the friend he had visiting, but Danny Diablo was watching us with narrowed eyes. He met my gaze scrutinizingly, and I just glanced away, tiredly. Selma, who hadn't really spoken thusfar, sank down on the bed behind me. I glanced back at her, but she was too busy watching my brother, evidently pretty troubled by what was going on. Well, welcome to the club.

"Wes, no one wanted this for you and Sera." Longbottom said seriously. "No one wants it for you, but this custody thing—it's a big deal. And as a school administrator—I have to contact her when this kind of stuff happens. I understand that she isn't a good guardian and maybe not a _safe_ guardian but until you have concrete evidence of a real abusive moment, there's nothing to be done."

"You're going to wait for her hurt Sera?" Wes demanded incredulously. "You're just—you can't just _leave_ a twelve-year-old at her house, for an entire summer, and pray that she either doesn't get hurt or if she does, it's bad enough to warrant some sort of safety measure being taken?"

"Ms. MacBride won't ever seriously hurt Sera." Longbottom said quietly. "She's not stupid."

"She's more than stupid—she's _abusive_!" Wes protested loudly. "Sera's _my_ responsibility and you _heard_ my grandmother: she _threatened_ her! That was a _threat_!" Wes was apparently about to have some kind of aneurysm, but Longbottom just watched my brother sadly. "How is a threat—and grabbing her arm? That would have bruised! And I know, that isn't _that_ big an injury but it is when the _only_ thing between Sera and her is me because _all_ of the adults in our lives are too busy trying to cover their own asses and keep themselves out of trouble to help us!"

"Wes, in order for us to be able to keep you and Sera here for ten months out of the year," Longbottom said slowly and seriously, obviously taking extra lengths to make his point clear. "We have to be open with your grandmother where the rules force us to—I do not like her or respect her, or like or respect the way she treats you two, but the _moment_ I stop obeying those rules, than you and Sera might be shipped off to another wizarding school—maybe both of you to different ones, or simply homeschooled by her. And as much as I hate the idea of you going back there over the summer, I hate the idea of the alternative even more." Longbottom finished firmly. "You know that I'd never purposely but you or Sera in danger—your father and I were friends, I was your legal guardian for a few months—but in this one case, there is nothing I am able to do but work within the rules so that you two don't face more trouble than you can handle." Wes gaped at him, before he just turned away from Longbottom, back to Teddy, Selma and me. Teddy was still blank-faced, which surprised me, but Selma was evidently no longer mad at Wes, because she bounced to her feet and covered the space between them with two steps, before flinging her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Wes pressed his face into her hair, but I caught a glimpse of the pained expression on his face even as Selma murmured something I couldn't hear in his ear. I just looked past them to Longbottom again, looking down at the blanket beneath me.

How the _hell_ were we going to survive the summer?


	32. You're Not In On the Joke

A/N: Umm, just so you know: Sera's thoughts on exams reflect mine exactly.

And I wanted to thank my awesome reviewers… you guys have really been reviewing a lot lately, and I appreciate it. Seriously. :D you have no idea how it motivates me and makes me happy.

Also: I turned in my huge history paper. Which means…drum roll please…I can officially be a mega slacker for the rest of the school year. Especially because I got a math test back today and it was an A-. giggles.

YAY! And happy reading!

…

Chapter 32: The World Has It's Shine (But I'd Drop it on a Dime for You)

"I hate exams." I said flatly. "They're stupid. People shouldn't take exams. They're just—God, I mean, seriously. In the real world, no one's expected to remember things from _September_ in June. That isn't a thing." I sighed heavily, slamming down the old scrolls I'd been reading over in an effort to learn from my mistakes. James just grinned at me from his spot leaning against his bedpost at the head of his bed, across from where I was sitting at the foot of the bed.

A week and a half had passed since my grandmother had effectively scared Selma, Teddy, Wes, and me out of our minds, and Wes hadn't stopped freaking out since. He hadn't fought with Owen, though, and which was good, but he was still pretty panicky about the summer. I kind of shared that outlook—the one where Wesley and Serafina Finnigan get murdered by an old lady—but I couldn't quite come up with anything to do about it except for hope that my parents showed up before that really old lady killed us. Which may have been dramatic, yeah, but you had to admit, ruling it out was kind of difficult. Of course, that was only if said really old lady got to me first—there were always those attacking people who liked to kick my ass across the Potters' yard.

"You're crazy." Rory said finally, looking at me and jerking me out of my lapse into my thoughts. "You've lost it." Rory paused. "And that's going to make you fail your exams…" He dragged the word out with a wicked grin, and I groaned, flopping forward tiredly.

"Don't joke about that." I mumbled into the blanket. "If I fail… well, nothing will happen, but it will still suck." I paused, pushing myself up. "I don't think Wes would be too mad, anyway…" I sighed, pulling a face. "Dean and Monica would kill me dead, though." I shook my head. "It would be very, very ugly."

"Kill you dead?" James questioned curiously. "Can they kill you in some other way?" He pointed out, and I rolled my eyes: leave it to Jamie to joke about my very true statement. "Can they kill you _alive_?" I chuckled a little, exhaling heavily, before I looked back down at the scrolls.

"I feel my brain cells dying." I admitted in a deadened voice, my eyes widening slightly at the realization, and I saw, in my peripherals, James smother a smile as he ducked his head.

"I think my eyes are going to melt and fall out of my head." Rory confided in a serious voice, and James shook his head.

"You two are in a delightful mood." James said with a fake smile, and I tilted my head to the side, grinning at him a little.

"Exams do that to us. You are aware of that, right?" I asked, and James fixed me with a no-duh look, lifting up his Potions book, which he flipped through slowly to show me the notes that had been made there. "How have kids before us survived these stupid things? How do Wes and Teddy and Conan do it?" I demanded, and Rory snorted in laughter.

"Conan fails things." Rory said frankly. "All the time. My parents are kind of praying that I'm the smart one, because or else their genes are just kind of screwy." He grinned. "I think they are, because Logan's an actual idiot and it's not like I'm the next Minister of Magic."

"Maybe you are." I said with a grin, nudging him with my elbow. "Maybe we should be writing down every single thing you do so we can write a tell-all exposé when you get famous." I looked up at Jamie. "We could know a famous person in the future." I said in a stage whisper.

"Uh, hate to break it to you there, Finnigan, but you're already famous." Rory said with a grin, shoving my shoulder, and I grinned, blushing. "Finnigan is as much a household name as a certain other person's name on this bed." Rory turned to James. "Potter. So I already _know_ lots of famous people. Evidently."

"Uh, my dad's the famous one." James scoffed, fixing Rory with an impatient glare. "I do not have magazine spreads all to myself like some other kids." His gaze flicked to me.

"I don't know why I have to keep reminding you of this," I said with a huge grin. "I'm the cool one. Of _course_ I get my own magazine spreads." Rory laughed, falling sideways, and James grinned at me. I giggled, pushing my hair out of my face as I picked up some of the scrolls and books I'd been studying. "Okay, I can't do this anymore; can we please go get some food?" I asked them, and James nodded vigorously. Rory winced, shaking his head.

"I've got to study," He muttered, and I nodded easily—Rory was taking two more classes than me this year. I didn't really know why he'd done that to himself, but he had, and now he was suffering the consequences.

"C'mon, Jamie—and Rore, we'll grab you something." I assured him, patting Rory's shoulder as I hopped off the bed, and Jamie followed suit. I grabbed his hand, tugging him after me into the staircase, and James closed the door behind us before I released his hand, turning to him with a relieved grin. "Thank God we're not studying anymore."

"Yeah." James agreed quietly, turning to me, and then he paused, his eyebrows rising. "Hey, Rainbow head, your hair is turning blondish again." He said quietly, and I grinned broadly, lifting a hand to run my fingers through my hair and moving a few strands in front of my face. Indeed, my multi-colored hair had a more caramel-y tint to it than it had yesterday. "Good."

"Good. I was getting tired of trying to dress with my multi-colored hair." I said, pleased. "You have no idea—nothing matches with Technicolor." I looked back up at him. "I also kind of feel like I look really weird, y'know?"

"Nah, you don't look weird." James said firmly, and I raised my eyebrows skeptically. "Hey, you look nice all the time." He muttered, shrugging uncomfortably, and I smiled sweetly at how nice that was to hear: James had moments where he said the exact right thing at the exact right time and somehow made my entire world brighter, with just a few words. "You're wearing the necklace!" James exclaimed softly, evidently just noticing the fact that I hadn't taken it off since he'd given it to me.

James's birthday present to me had been a necklace with a very thin chain and an S on it. It was beautiful and he'd apparently bought it for me over spring break, with his allowance or something, but I had yet to take it off.

"Of course I do!" I told him, smiling warmly. "I love it," I lifted my hand to touch the S pendant self-consciously, "I haven't taken it off yet, doofus." I said with a gentle grin, before I turned and bounced down the steps. James followed me and I led the way into the Common Room, and I almost ran into Wes.

"Watch where you're going, kiddo." Wes said easily to me, putting his hands on my shoulders to balance me as I stumbled to the side, and I grinned up at him recklessly. My brother sighed in exasperation, his gaze flicking suspiciously to the staircase behind me, and I winced: busted. "And what were you doing in the boys' dorms?" He pushed.

"Studying." I told Wes, frowning up at him as James came up behind me, looking nervous: the boys all got nervous in front of my brother and god brother, and I wasn't really sure why. "It's not like we're doing anything _wrong_—I just don't have to deal with my roomies when I'm in the boys' dormitories." Wes winced: since he'd learned that my roommates had 'bullied' me (a term I still resented because if Daisy was a bully, than I was a victim), he'd felt guilty, and I was pretty sure it was because he hadn't known.

"Alright." Wes said doubtfully, frowning unhappily, and I smiled up at him. "Never mind, then." He tilted his head to the side, looking at me seriously. "You sound a little defensive, though."

"Sorry, I'm just in a bad mood, exams suck." I muttered, glancing back at Jamie for a second, before looking back at Wes. "We've been studying for hours. And hours and hours and hours." I blew some of my hair out my face. "I don't understand how anyone survives exams."

"First year is not that big a deal." Wes reminded me. "No one would be too freaked out if you did badly, you know." He said to me reassuringly, and I frowned. He continued more gently. "And you have had a hell of a year…"

"I'm going to do well." I said determinedly. Wes chuckled, ruffling my hair, and I swatted at his hand. Behind me, James's stomach growled, and I glanced back at him with a grin: he just fixed me with a _you-told-me-there'd-be-food_ look. I turned back to Wes with an apologetic smile. "We're getting food because Jamie's hungry, so I'll see you later." I said brightly, and Wes rolled his eyes tolerantly as I grabbed James's hand and pulled him after me, out of the Common Room and through the portrait hole and into the hallway.

I released Jamie's hand, and James watched me for a second before he spoke carefully. "You and Wes are pretty close now, I guess." He said, his voice gentle: he was curious about something, but he didn't want to push me for answers or anything like that.

"Since Mum and Dad disappeared, yeah, we've gotten pretty close." I paused. "Maybe a little more since I got kidnapped over spring break—I think that really scared him, y'know?" I shrugged. "Just because we assumed—or at least I assumed—that if the adults were there, if Wes was there, I'd be safe. And there were adults and they were trapped." My voice was very quiet, mostly because I knew that if anyone overheard this conversation, they'd freak out.

"Merlin, can't we talk about anything else?" James asked me, and I heard the tenseness in his voice: I frowned up at him, my gaze meeting his. "I hate thinking about that—"

"I didn't know you'd seen it." I said softly, tucking a few strands of my hair behind my ear. "Weren't you deeper inside the house? I didn't see you when the door opened…"

"Dad made Teddy take me and Lou and all the kids upstairs—Dad's got some crazy spells up there so no one can get in—" James muttered, running a hand through his own hair and lifting his face to look away from me for a moment, focusing on the stone wall far above my head, before he looked back to me. "I saw it from the upstairs windows, Louis and I both did. It was pretty awful to watch." He shook his head. "I still have some pretty nasty dreams."

"You get nightmares?" I asked James softly, wincing on behalf of my friend, and James sighed, running an awkward hand through his hair.

"Not—I mean—you cannot tell anyone, but yes." He said uncomfortably, and I nodded slowly after a second, catching on. Poor Jamie was embarrassed. He didn't have anything to be embarrassed about, but I knew for James that admitting something like nightmares was similar to admitting a fatal flaw of some sort.

"I won't tell." I said in the same soft tone, but James still pulled away awkwardly all the same, starting towards the kitchens. I let him get a few feet in front of me, my gaze following him, before I jogged up to him, catching up. "Wait up, dork." I ordered, and he rolled his eyes, but slowed down all the same. "So have you heard from your parents recently?" I asked him brightly. "How's Lily?" James chuckled: I was still conspiring to kidnap Lily and make her my little sister. I loved her _so _much: she was the sweetest kid on the planet, even if she did have an annoying tendency to talk about how James and I were dating because Teddy looked at Victoire the same way James looked at me. I didn't believe that, even for a second: I'd seen Teddy look at Victoire, and the seriousness of the commitment there scared me. No one could inadvertently look at someone the way Teddy looked at Victoire.

"Lily's good…" James said, his voice drifting off. "She loves her muggle school, though." He rolled his eyes. "And she's going to have to leave after fifth grade for Hogwarts, so I don't really know what the game plan is there…" He shrugged.

"It's good she's happy for the time being, though." I said optimistically. "And I think she wants to come to Hogwarts too badly for it to be too hard of a transition." I grinned. "I was really excited to come to Hogwarts, for the most part."

"For the most part?" James asked as we turned into the giant room with all the staircases. "I was counting down the days till I came to Hogwarts since I was, like, nine. What was the least part?"

"Wes and I didn't get along before this year." I admitted softly, shrugging. "He was just…such a good kid, y'know? Wes didn't get in scrapes, or trouble, really, except for that fight last year and, well, this year…" I frowned. "Alright, well, that no longer applies, but it used to. And Wes is kind of really smart and I heard rumors he's gonna be a prefect next year…and he joined the quidditch team his first year, so he'll probably be captain his seventh year." I swallowed. "And we used to just… kind of snap at each other." I bit my lip, looking up at James uncomfortably: this was embarrassing to admit. "Now I feel really bad about it, because it turns out that he's such a great brother now, but when I first came to Hogwarts, I thought Wes and I would just go at each other ten months out of the year and then go home and have to stop because my mum would be there." I winced. "I wasn't pleased."

"Albus and I used to be like that." James acknowledged. "Mum told me he used to be jealous of me or Louis or something—just because I spent so much time with Louis when we were back home that Albus felt excluded or something. At least, that's how it was explained to me…" His voice drifted off. "But I think the distance was good for us, or something." He shrugged. "It's just…easier now. We're not competing for stuff all the time."

"James!" I heard someone call, and I twisted, looking around: Alanis Fortier, from Hufflepuff, was scrambling down the steps, away from her friends and towards us. I smiled brightly at the girl, but James just seemed to watch her approach with the same deadened expression he used with pretty much everyone but Louis and me. "Hi Sera!" Alanis said brightly to me, and I waved a little at her.

"Hey Alanis." I said pleasantly, but she'd already looked towards James as she stopped on the step above us.

"James, can I ask you something in private—I'm super sorry, Sera, I don't want to be rude…" Alanis said sweetly, and I nodded, glancing at James.

"I'll be at the bottom of the stairs." I said, and Jamie nodded at me: I turned and descended the steps. What did Alanis need to talk to James about in private? Jamie wasn't friends with Alanis—not especially, at least. I was pretty sure James thought she was a nice enough person.

I stopped awkwardly at the bottom of the steps, glancing back up towards where Alanis was talking animatedly to James, who was as emotional as a wooden post. Suddenly, Alanis stopped talking long enough to ask a question. James looked surprised for a half second before he glanced, almost instinctively, back at me. Alanis saw the glance and her face fell; James turned back to her, looking solemn before he shook his head, saying something I couldn't hear. Alanis nodded, then smiled a little sadly, and turned around, bouncing back up the steps to her friends. James turned back to me, practically running down the stairs and grabbing my wrist, pulling me after him. "What'd she say?" I demanded, fascinated at how dramatic James's reaction was, but he shushed me, tugging me awkwardly into the hallway, so we were out of Alanis' sight.

"She asked me to the dance." James muttered as he turned to me, his expression revealing how unhappy he was with this development.

"The end of year dance?" I demanded, my mouth dropping open with my shock. Seriously, I know a lot of people say that, but this time, it actually happened. The end of year dance was a huge giant deal. It was what people brought actual dates to—it was the night before graduation, so it was kind of celebratory for everybody, and a lot of fun, according to Alec, who'd filled me in on most of that. Apparently, a lot of things happened that dictated how next year's social nonsense would go. I didn't really care enough about that type of thing to participate, but I knew a lot of kids did. And everyone _knew_ about it. And asking another kid to it was kind of a serious thing.

"Yes." James said seriously.

"What did you _say_?" I asked him in a hushed voice, feeling an odd pressure build up between my lungs. It would have felt like panic, just like the jittery feeling I had might have been adrenaline, had there been any reason _to_ panic. But I was just standing in a hallway with my best friend. Nothing scary about that.

"No." James said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world, and a wave of relief swept over me. I wasn't sure why that was either—James should go to the dance with whoever he wants. And Alanis was pretty, and I knew that going to a dance with someone your first year was a huge indicator of popularity.

"Why?" I asked in a dazed voice, my gaze locked with James's. James watched me, taking a shallow breath before a violent blush rose to his cheeks, coloring most of his face a blotchy red.

"I—" He fell silent. And then he bit his lip, looking genuinely worried. "I told her I was going with you." He said softly. Butterflies popped into my stomach, and I blinked at this new development, my eyes wide. "I—I'm sorry, I just—couldn't think of anything else to tell her and I really don't like her and don't want to go to the dance with her and give her the idea that I like her, because that's what dances mean, so instead I said I was going with…you." He seemed to understand what he was implying almost as soon as he said it. Taking people to dances meant you liked them. James had told Alanis he was taking me to the dance. Thus, James liked me.

I felt almost dizzy with this revelation.

"Oh." I said softly.

"Look—I'll—" James seemed panicky, but fell silent, because he was unwilling to take back what he said. Instead he just sighed. "You okay with that?" He asked me softly.

"Um." I paused, swallowing as I tried to focus on a single thought long enough to figure out my response to this. "I'm okay with that."

"Good." James said softly. He looked away from me for a second, and I glanced away too, desperate to process what had just happened. James' stomach grumbled angrily: we'd yet to get food. I giggled a little despite myself, and James chuckled after a second too. "Let's go get some food." He murmured, and I nodded eagerly: it was definitely time to switch subjects.

So James and I moved on like that conversation had never happened.

………

"Alec, I need your owl." I said desperately to my godbrother two nights later after I'd finished my homework. James was at quidditch practice, which made it safe to have this conversation now.

"Why?" Alec demanded, sounding overly hassled, because he was way too cool to be talking to a first year. Especially when his friends were right there.

"Duke's all messed up still from when Wes got hurt." I said shortly, and I saw Gerard, Alec's super mean roommate and kind of friend, glance up at me, raising an eyebrow. I shot him a fleeting scowl—I hated Gerard—and he smirked, shaking his head a little as he looked back down at his paper. I just looked back at Alec. "And I need to write your parents and there are all the protections on the house now so no owls but yours and mine and Wes's can find it…"

"What do you need to write to my parents for?" Alec demanded, lifting his face to look at me seriously.

"None of your business." I said with a reproachful frown.

"Then no owl." Alec decreed.

"No—please, Alec, I'm desperate." I begged. "Duke will be another day at least and I need your mum's help with something—"

"Tell me what and I might be able to help you." Alec pointed out philosophically, and I resisted the urge to kill him, right then and there.

"Please?" I asked pitifully. "I'm your sad little godsister. I need your help…"

"Oh, shush." Alec muttered, waving a hand at me, and I dropped the act.

"Alec. I'm begging here." I said plainly. "Let me use Orion."

"What in the world could be this important and this private?" Alec demanded, putting down his pen on top of his book and looking up at me.

"I got asked to the dance and I need a dress." I said in one breath, praying that if I said the words fast enough, Alec might not care about the meaning. Evidently, it didn't work, because Alec sat back in his chair and raised his eyebrows. I winced, and Alec grinned.

"Who got up the guts to ask you?" Alec asked.

"You're going to make a big deal out of it…" I whined.

"Why?" Alec demanded, frowning a little.

"Just cause." I whined.

"No, you're telling me who this is." Alec bargained. I glanced unhappily at Gerard before looking back at Alec. "Hey, he may laugh at you, but he won't tell." Alec promised.

"Lies." I accused.

"Not lies." Alec muttered, frowning. "Now tell me or I'm going to tell Wes, and we can all imagine—"

"No—please—" I whined unhappily, falling into the seat beside Alec. "It's Jamie. James asked me to the dance." I paused. "Sorta."

"James." Alec said carefully.

"Yes. James. James Sirius Potter, I believe you've heard of him—" I said mockingly, and my god-brother, threw me an irritated look.

"You want to look nice for him." Alec said after a second, grinning, and I winced.

"I just—want to look nice. Who says that needs to be for anyone?" I tried desperately.

"You _like_ him." Alec said, still grinning, and I covered my face with my hands, wailing a little. Alec laughed, grinning hugely at me. "Ser—jeez, relax, I'm not going to buy an ad in the prophet or something." Alec said, and I sighed heavily, fixing him with a glare.

"Yeah, but you're no angel." I pointed out. "You might just be a jerk and tell lots of people." I paused. "Like Wes."

"I've gotta tell Wes." Alec agreed.

"Nope."

"Yeah."

"Um." I paused. "Al, he's gonna get weird." I bit my lip. "Creepy Mac-Grandmother was super scary last week and he's still off from that, worrying about the summer and stuff." I pointed out softly. "Wes doesn't need more stress."

"What would be more stress?" Wes demanded behind us, and I winced, glancing up at him. I heard Gerard, behind me, gather his things and leave. I turned my gaze, slowly and menacingly, from Wes back down to Alec. Alec was just grinning up at my big brother.

"You have impeccable timing." Alec said with a grin.

"Comes with a kid who I've taken to stalking recently." Wes said, ruffling my hair as he came around the couch, and I pulled my legs up to my chest, hugging them tightly. "So tell me about that thing that's going to stress me out."

"Sera got asked to the end of year dance." Alec said, and I pressed my face into my knees. "By James Potter." Wes made a noise between a strangled laugh and a groan, and I winced. "She thinks you're going to kill her or have a panic attack or something." Alec paused, letting this sit for a second. "She's wrong, right?"

"I'm not gonna kill you." Wes muttered to me, but he still sounded amused. "Ser, c'mon, look at me." I looked up from where I'd hidden my face against my knees, and Wes looked at me with a small smile. "Why d'you assume I'm going to kill you?" He asked. "I don't make a habit of it—I'm actually pretty fair, when it comes to you." He fixed me with look. "And I legitimately don't think I've ever had a panic attack."

"Because last time you thought James liked me or I liked James or something like that—and I'm not saying any of that is _true_—" I hedged, and Wes smothered a smile, "you talked to James and freaked him out and freaked _me_ out and nearly made us not friends anymore and then we fought and I really hated that."

"Yeah, I've had a bad track record but I swear—this time, I'm not going to scare away your boyfriend—"

"Not true, shh!" I begged him, leaping at him, and Wes laughed. "Please, no, Wes—c'mon, I wouldn't have even told you dorks if I didn't need Al's owl…"

"Aww, but that would be no fun!" Wes exclaimed with a grin. I slumped in my seat, glaring at him.

"I hate you."

"Nah, you don't."

"Yep."

Wes was too busy laughing now to respond, and I looked at Alec uncomfortably, my eyes wide. Alec shrugged: Wes was acting weird to him too. Well, at least I wasn't alone. "Wes, quit it…" I begged, smacking his arm lightly. "You're sketching me out—I just wanted to write to Monica for a dress, I didn't even want to tell you because I knew you'd have some super sketch reaction…" I sighed in exasperation. "Please don't do this." I paused, hoping the laughter would tone down, but it didn't. "And I knew you would—mostly because you told Victoire that I was going to join a nunnery or something—when she was trying to put makeup on me…" I blushed embarrassedly, glancing towards the door of the Gryffindor Common Room, praying that the quidditch team ran late in practice. Wes would tell Teddy, I knew, and together, they'd have a laughing-at-James-and-Sera party and it would make me sad.

"You like him, this is so funny…" Wes was choking on his laughter, and I glared at him unreservedly.

"You're mean." I whined.

"No…" Wes stopped laughing, but he was still grinning recklessly. "I don't want to torture you, Sera, it's just—I love how surprised you are." He shook his head, looking past me to Alec. "Didn't I call this in like, November?"

"Yep." Alec sounded overly delighted: stupid brother & godbrother liked to laugh mercilessly at me.

"I _called_ this." Wes said emphatically.

"No one has ever cared less in the entire world." I interrupted, glaring at him. "Please stop making fun of me so Alec can let me use his owl so I can get a stupid dress and then go hide upstairs from my mean family." I glared at them both.

"You can use her, she's in the owlery." Alec told me, and I didn't even wait a second, practically leaping out of my seat and towards the portrait hole, leaving my brother cackling like the wicked witch of the west as I scrambled into the hallway.

I calmed down once in the hallway, trying to quiet the blushing on my face and crossing my arms as I walked hurriedly down one set of steps, then up another opposite it, before turning up yet another. Getting to the owlery was a pain in the butt. However, it was better than the alternative: owls were really smelly and would have been absolutely gross to keep in the dormitories.

I had to shove my shoulder against the owlery door to get it open, and I ducked my head against the gust of humid air: it was a particularly hot and humid night in Hogwarts, this evening. I glanced up, and blinked in surprise—Louis was sending off his owl with a note home.

"Hey Lou." I said with a grin, and the blond turned around, before flashing a bright grin in my direction. "Ick, I hate this weather. It's so sticky." I pulled a face, crossing the room to Alec's familiar owl, Orion. He'd named it after the constellation, though I wasn't really sure why.

"I know." Louis muttered, pushing some of his hair out of his face. "You writing a letter to your godparents or something?"

I blushed a little bit at this point, even I pulled the note I'd scribbled out of my pocket, tying it carefully to Alec's owl's leg. The bird hooted and pulled away, bending down to nip my hand, and I winced, before flashing a glare at the bird. "C'mon, Ore." I said irritatedly. I tried again, and the owl let me tie the letter, though I did so very gingerly. I pulled back, petting down the bird's feathers. "Go home, okay?" I asked the bird, and he just took off without another word. I turned back to Louis, frowning down at the very small cut on my hand. "Stupid bird." I muttered, and Louis smiled shallowly. "And uh, yeah." I paused awkwardly.

The thing was, I didn't think Louis knew Jamie and I were going to the dance together yet.

I couldn't imagine how he'd know—James didn't talk to people unless tricked into it, and I was really the only person skilled enough at that to get things he didn't necessarily even want to say out of him. And I knew—or I now had some guesses that—Louis got really weird whenever James and me, as anything other than exclusively best friends, came up. But Lou deserved to know: he and James were best friends and _family_, and I was his best friend.

"Um, I've got something to tell you." I said carefully, taking a step forward and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, letting my nipped hand fall to my side. Louis frowned a little.

"Everything okay?" He asked me worriedly, and I nodded.

"Yeah, it's just…" I paused, building up my courage for another second. "It's just that Jamie kind of asked me to the dance." I paused. "And I thought you should know."

Louis's expression was indescribable, but I'll take a shot at it anyway: first shock, then irritation, then _anger_, and finally, a calmness that I couldn't quite place. It didn't seem right on Louis. In fact, it reminded me starkly of James: that tendency to smother the uncomfortable feelings had the James Potter copyright on it, I was pretty sure. But on Louis's features, it just made me sad: he was usually so expressive. If I could trust either of the boys to let me know exactly how he was feeling, it was Lou. Even though I could always _tell_ with Jamie, Louis was more open.

"Thanks." He said stiffly, and I felt a kind of dazed panic seize me as I realized that I'd—somehow, someway I didn't quite understand—hurt Louis's feelings.

"I—" I paused. "I'm sorry." I said softly, and Louis fixed me with an irritated look.

"About what?" He demanded angrily, and I grasped at straws, at a loss. What was happening? James and I always had arguments—but Louis, never. Louis was endlessly reasonable, endlessly kind. The kid couldn't be mean to someone who pushed him down the stairs, and it was maybe my favorite trait about him. It was so refreshing, compared to James' constant readiness for a battle, any battle.

"I don't know." I admitted softly: honesty was the best policy, even if it did make me sound like an actual stupid person. "I'm just sorry I hurt your feelings, I don't really know how but I—"

"How can you really not know?" Louis wondered aloud, sounding suddenly as if he was really wondering that, but voicing his own thoughts rather than asking me. "How can this possibly have slipped by you—Teddy, James, Wes, Alec, Edie, even. They all predicted this and I thought I could maybe—"

"I don't understand." I pled to Louis, pushing my hair out of my face and taking a few steps closer to him. "Please, Lou, tell me—"

"I like you, Sera." Louis ground out, sounding angrier than I'd literally ever heard him. "I like you. And it sucks because James does too—we've both liked you since the first ten seconds on the Hogwarts Express on September First. But we agreed, because we're cousins and that comes first, not to do _this_. Not to do _exactly what happened when James asked you to the dance_." Louis ground out. "Because we knew it would become a competition and—"

"I'm not a prize to be _won_." I said, feeling a little offended. "Louis—Jesus, did _no one_ think to ask me?" I asked him angrily.

"I didn't want to hear the answer." Louis said flatly, fixing me with a look. "Because I _know_ the answer, Sera. You like James. I know, I've known since, like, November. Your brother knows, Selma knows, Teddy knows, Grace and Nelly both know—" Louis cut himself off with a bitter laugh. "And you know what the funny thing is?" He asked me with that same smile that wasn't happy at all. "The funny thing is that the only two people that didn't know in this entire school—and I _mean_ that—are you and James. You two were the _only_ people in this giant castle, hell, the only two people I _know_, who didn't know you liked James." Louis pulled away from me, turning away from me and tearing down the steps. I watched him go, my mouth open like a fish's as I stared after him, even after the door had shut behind him.

"Louis _likes_ me." I said aloud, to the empty owlery. I took a deep breath, letting that settle, before I just sighed exhaustedly. Louis did like me, evidently, even though it was hard to believe. And James liked me—or at least that seemed to be the general consensus. And apparently, I liked James.

No one had told me that first year would be this complicated.


	33. Mama

A/N: a warning to those who are reading this chappie, break out the tissues. I was crying writing this--in my school library at a computer with like six of my friends--and I didn't cry at titanic. so i will understand if you don't read this immeidately because you're in a good mood and don't want to ruin it and/or you don't want big swollen eyes (like I get) when you cry.

and, to those of you to be committed enough to get mad when I do things like this to my beloved characters, please don't kill me.

xoxo

.....................

Chapter 33: Mama

"Louis _likes_ you?" Edie asked me in a whisper, as we sat across from one another in the library, a week later. Exams started a week from tomorrow: we were stressed to the breaking point.

But not necessarily because of exams.

In fact, I didn't even care that much about finals. No one cared your first year, and my grandmother hated me anyway, so a couple bad grades couldn't make it that much worse. And Wes would be happy if I did well and would forgive me if I didn't. But more than my indifference to exams, my current social problems were kind of overwhelming my existence. My best friends both _liked_ me. _Like_ liked. And my brother had called this like a mile off. And I hadn't talked to Louis in a week, and Jamie and I were barely talking because he was too busy watching Louis pitifully because he really wanted to make up with him. James would never admit it, but Louis was like his brother-best-friend combination. Louis sort of embodied the first person to connect with James even though Jamie was kind of damaged and angry, at least with other people. I was the first person to do that outside James's family. Eitherway, though, it broke James' heart to have hurt Louis like this.

But Louis was having none of the nearly-constant apologizing.

The thing was, it wasn't that he didn't trust that James was sincere—James was nothing if not sincere—but I was pretty sure he just felt really betrayed. And a little embarrassed. I sure did. I felt really guilty for not liking Louis, actually, because when I thought about it, Louis was a really great friend. Maybe better than James, if only because James and I were always getting in tiffs. But James—and please, I know this sounds crazy corny—understood me in a way that I wasn't sure Louis did. The fact of it was, James _got_ me. He understood how I was a little crazy when I talked about my parents but how I still wanted to do it, because I feared, above all else, forgetting them. He knew I didn't care about what Gallagher said unless it was about my parents. He knew that Wes and I fought sometimes but it would never be forever because we were all the family the other had left. I was spoiled by how much Jamie understood me: Louis, poor kid, couldn't compare to the standards that his cousin had raised the bar on.

But Louis was just… really nice. And that sounds lame in comparison, but it was just so undeniably true. It felt meaner, somehow, to be ambivalent about my feelings about Louis because Louis was so unambivalent and so straightforward, and so much more open than Jamie. Louis was the sweetest person I'd maybe ever met. He could listen for hours. And if I factored in him liking me to all the times he comforted me over fighting with James—well, Jeez. Louis was going straight to heaven and deserved the have the girl he liked like him back.

"And so does James." I clarified, and Edie waved an impatient hand at me as if this was old news: I rolled my eyes.

"Duh. But _Louis_?" She demanded, wincing. "I guess I considered it but I just assumed…" She sighed. "Louis and James are super close. This must be crazy hard for them…" She sighed, slumping a little in her seat, and I felt a wave of guilt hit me before I even considered whether I'd done anything wrong. "And I kind of wish Louis didn't like you because I kind of like him." She admitted in a sad voice, and I exhaled heavily, my gaze wide on the girl in front of me.

"But I thought Rory liked you…" I said slowly, feeling my heart sink: Edie couldn't get mad at me. My sanity was already in jeopardy with both the boys either angry or just mad awkward with me--if Edie ditched too, I'd have to get checked into the insane asylum.

"Rory likes all girls." She grinned a little shallowly at me. "If he thought he had half a chance at you, I'm pretty sure you'd be first on the list." I groaned, letting my head drop to the table, so my forehead was pressed against my book.

"I didn't want this." I grumbled into my book. "I just…wanted friends and Louis and Jamie held me hostage on the train." I lifted my head to look at Edie miserably. "I didn't mean to hurt them—either of them." I sighed tiredly, looking back down at my Transfiguration book: I was so mad about these stupid arguments with my friends that I could barely concentrate. "I mean…" I paused, looking up at Edie, sighing a little. "Look, I'm not going to lie, I knew _something_ was going on, in terms of them acting weird—but it's a far leap from James and Louis being weird to James and Louis liking me." I told Edie heatedly under my breath.

"_Shhhh_," Madame Pince, the million-year-old (that was a pretty reasonable guess, seriously: she'd been the librarian when my father had been at school) librarian, hissed at us across the library. I glanced up at her with a tense smile, raising a hand in apology, and she just looked back down at her desk, her permanent sour expression still present.

"Weird how?" Edie demanded, and I winced: I should have anticipated this.

"They do this thing…" I sighed. "I guess really Jamie does it. We'll be doing something—homework, a lot of the time—and I'll glance up at him to ask him something, and he'll look up too, because I look up, and I'll say something, but he won't respond, but he's staring right at me. I look at him for a second, and then blushes, and looks away for a second before he looks back at me." I sighed tiredly, running my fingers through my hair. "This is a disaster."

"Agreed." Edie said unhelpfully, and I glanced at her impatiently. Edie watched me sympathetically. "But it sounds like James really cares about you." She pointed out softly, and I blushed a little, glancing away from my only girl friend. "And I'm guessing you really care about him too."

"I do." I murmured. "But I've…always cared about him, y'know? It just—we're best friends, Edie. And my parents are missing and my grandmother's crazy: if Jamie didn't care about me, at this point, he wouldn't still be here. I come with far too much baggage to just wander from friend to friend." I pulled my legs up onto my chair, hugging them and grateful for the warm weather that was allowing me to wear my jeans shorts. "And Louis cares about me, too—I do know that." I sighed tiredly. "I feel mean saying this but I kind of really wish he didn't."

"Don't feel mean." Edie said seriously. "Louis does care about you and I think he's maybe wishing he didn't too—you guys have been friends for like nine months, yeah, but it's been a seriously intense nine months. Louis cares about you a lot and hopes your parents are okay and all of that…" Edie sighed. "But you don't like Louis back." She fixed me with a look. "You like James."

"How do you know that?" I demanded, frowning at Edie. "I didn't know until like last week..." my voice trailed off as I finished the memory, realizing that Louis had been completely right. "And Louis told me I was, like, the last person left on campus who didn't know." I finished with a grimace.

"_Shhhhhhh_," Madame Pince hissed across the library, and Edie and I both glanced at her with muttered apology before looking back down at our books. We pretended to study for about a minute before I glanced back up at Edie.

"James was super obvious about it, and you were kind of too—so you were either leading him on or you genuinely liked him." Edie explained softly. "And considering that you were eleven until a week and a half ago, and that you didn't even know you liked him—chances were that you weren't just playing with him."

"I would never do that!" I said, panicky. "I would never—"

"Miss Finnigan, Miss Bones, you must leave." Madame Pince said, seemingly just _appearing_ (like magic! Oh wait…) beside our library table. I winced. "You have disturbed the peace and believe you me I will be mentioning this transgression to your head of house." I just grabbed my books and stood up with Edie, ducking my head and passing the other tables, ignoring the fact that Alec's sniggering form was at a table a couple away from mine, and as I passed him, I flicked the back of his head: he winced, and Edie, behind me, giggled a little. I felt a spell hit my bag and felt it wiggle--the Wiggle Quil curse was a pretty common one, as pranks at Hogwarts went. I spun to glare at my godbrother, but he was (pretending) to busily study his textbook. I saw him smirk a little, though.

Alec was an idiot anyway.

………

"Good morning, students!" the Headmistress called out from her dais at the front of the Great Hall. It was the morning of everyone's first exam (or as the case was with the fifth and seventh years, NEWT and OWL), and we were in the Great Hall to get our room assignments. This was part of the very intricate system to keep us from cheating—apparently it was a problem with a kid in Teddy's year, a really long time ago. Anyway, now we got our room assignments about ten minutes before the actual exam started. "First, I would like to wish everyone good luck on their exams!" No one really said anything—first off, the Headmistress scared us. And second, everyone had pretty much pulled an all-nighter the night before, so there were lots of very frazzled kids in this room.

I just glanced at Jamie beside me: we hadn't talked all that much, but we were certainly awkwardly silent. Despite the argument he and Louis were having, I grabbed his hand and gave it a light squeeze, and he flashed me a stressed smile. I released his hand awkwardly, crossing my arms across my chest to look back at the teachers, all of whom were smiling on the dais. Why in the name of God would they be _smiling_? There was nothing _happy_ about exams.

"Second off, here are your room assignments: first years, please go to the Defense Against the Dark Arts room on the third floor; second years, go to your usual Potions room; third years, go to your Charms classroom, please; fourth years, please go to _your_ usual Potions room and make sure not to get mixed up with the second years' rooms; fifth years, stay here; sixth years, please go to your Transfiguration Classroom; seventh years, please go out to the lake." Patil rattled off, and there was a sudden flurry of activity as people obeyed. James disappeared into the crowd, so I made my way, alone, to the classroom, ignoring how panicked people were getting around me. I'd studied long and hard for my DADA final: if I didn't do well, I'd deal.

I slipped into the classroom and into the seat between James and Louis, so Jamie was in front of me and Louis was in back of me (in exams, we were in rows according to our house) and I glanced at Louis, who was busily glaring at his desk. I swallowed nervously, glancing round the classroom, looking to Alanis Fortier, sitting diagonally in front of me. She smiled tightly back at me, and I smiled at her too, feeling a little sad: Alanis was so _nice_. I hadn't meant to have Jamie ditch her for me.

"Silence, guys, c'mon." Professor McElwee said as he came in, his stack of exams in his hand. He gave ten to the first kid in each of the four rows, and soon enough, we all had an exam. "You may begin." He said solemnly, and we all flipped our papers over. I'd just gotten through writing my name on the top of mine when there was a knock on the classroom door. I busily started filling in the questions—I _knew_ most of them!—before I heard a small gasp from my teacher, and everyone looked up. Mr. Potter, Jamie's dad, was standing in the doorway, looking frazzled and, above all, apologetic.

"Miss Finnigan, sweetheart, you need to go with Mr. Potter." McElwee said quietly, and I blinked, feeling a tight panic coil in my chest. Mr. Potter was here for me.

"But…"I let my voice trail off, unsure of how to explain why this was all wrong, and Professor McElwee gave me a sad smile, weaving through the desks to come up to me, and he gently took my exam from me, and my quill. I swallowed worriedly—what had happened?—as I got up, feeling everyone's gaze on me as I crossed to the side of the classroom. I glanced back at James and Louis for a half second before I left the room, closing the door behind me and looking up at James' father.

"C'mon, sweetheart, Ron is getting Wes and we're meeting in Neville's office to floo out of here…"

"What's wrong?" I asked shakily.

"I want to tell you and Wes together, sweetheart, and we're still waiting to hear on a few things—"

"Mr. Potter." I said carefully, trying to steady my voice. "Mr. Potter, please tell me what's happening…" I said shakily, and my best friend's father looked at me sadly.

"Once you're with Wes." Mr. Potter echoed, and he started towards Professor Longbottom's office: I followed, feeling like I was about to throw up. Something had happened—my parents. Mum and Dad weren't—still just missing, anymore. Something had changed.

I followed Mr. Potter back down the steps, frightened at how empty and quiet Hogwarts was: exams, OWLs and NEWTs were serious business. If you made noise during exams, it was quite likely that the fifth and seventh years would just shoot you, right then and there.

Mr. Potter and I turned onto the hallway with Longbottom's office on it, just as Wes disappeared into it. I ran a worried hand through my hair, my mind racing through all the scenarios. All but the worse, though—I couldn't quite bring myself to think about what would happen if this was _the_ end. If this—this disaster—was my finding out my parents were dead.

Mr. Potter pushed open Longbottom's door and entered first, before holding it open for me. Wes, Professor Longbottom, and James and Louis's uncle were in there, Longbottom behind his desk while Wes leaned against the window sill and Mr. Weasley stood in the corner, looking kind of flustered. I crossed to my brother instinctively, fixing him with a confused look, and Wes just raised an eyebrow: he had no more of an idea of what was happening that I did. Great. I loved it when Wes knew no more than I did. That always meant things were going really well.

"Wes, Sera, I'm sorry we had to pull you from your exams." Mr. Weasley said apologetically, and I said nothing, my gaze firmly on the red-haired man in front of me. "But something's happened in your parents' case." Wes straightened up, rising to his full height of what was now six feet, just about my father's height.

"We found…" Mr. Potter seemed to hesitate, but ended up continuing, his expression telling me just how sorry he was. "We found a body, guys. We think it's your mother's."

I just stared at the man in front of me, panic seizing me as I heard his words, my head spinning as I considered their meaning. Mum—my nameless mother—was probably dead. Seasoned aurors like Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter—they wouldn't just pull two kids out of school to hear about a body that might have been their mother's. They had to be pretty damned sure for Wes and me to be standing here, hearing this awful discovery.

"Goddammit." Wes murmured, and I felt tears sting my eyes: I blinked them rapidly away.

"How…" I felt my voice fail me, and I closed my eyes painfully, squeezing them shut and rubbing them with the heels of my hands, trying my hardest not to have this breakdown, here and now. I opened my eyes and looked up at them again. "How d'you know?"

"We've got pictures and spells to confirm identity without putting family members through identifying the body." Mr. Potter told me softly, and I just nodded once, feeling my eyes fill with tears again, and then spill over. I sniffed, the lump in my throat making it hard to breathe, and Wes shakily walked over to a chair, sinking into it, and I just remained standing. "Guys, I know it doesn't mean much, but I really am very sorry." I bit my lip, my hand rising to my face to once more swipe at the tears that had somehow thickened there. My mum—they thought she was dead.

Oh my god.

"Dean and Monica…" Wes said hoarsely, after a second, running a hand over his hair and looking up at our aurors. "Alec… They need to know." Wes continued in a dazed way--he was scrambling to get control of this situation that had so obviously reeled so far out of anyone's control. I hiccoughed, and Wes just covered his face with his hands. His shoulders shook silently, and my tears thickened: I pulled my sweatshirt closer to me, sobbing shortly as I turned away from my teachers and parents' aurors.

"My brother's getting Alec." Mr. Weasley told us softly, once he'd given us a minute. "And then we're going to head down to the Ministry so we can talk about some other things." I sobbed again, this time louder, suddenly the door opened, revealing Louis's dad and Alec. I sobbed, throwing myself at my godbrother, and Alec caught me, hugging me tightly.

"Jeez—Sera, what's happening?" He asked me, panicking, and I just pressed my face into his shoulder.

"Mum's dead." I sobbed, and Alec's breath caught, and I saw his eyes get too shiny too fast when I lifted my face to look up at him for a half-second. Alec closed his eyes, his mouth forming a grim line, and I just sobbed again, burying face in his shirt.

"Shh, Ser…" Alec murmured, rubbing my back, and I just sobbed again. "It'll be okay, shh… everything will be okay, I promise."

Alec lied.

………

A blur of tears and floo trips later, I was sitting in the main auror office, between Alec and Wes. It'd been an hour since we'd found out, an hour since we'd known my mother died. My first hour on the planet with my mother dead.

Dean and Monica were apparently here, somewhere, but we hadn't seen them: I had a suspicion that my godfather was crying somewhere, or my godmother was, and either way, they didn't think we could handle seeing them like that. And I wasn't entirely sure that was incorrect. Wes seemed to be taxing himself taking care of me, and that had become second nature for my big brother. Alec was just kind of mulling—very much an Alec reaction: he was going to have a real breakdown, but I knew that it would probably be in a few minutes.

"Guys, are you sure you don't want water or something?" A nervous-looking young woman who'd been assigned to not letting us get kidnapped or something in the first ten seconds of our presence here asked us. Alec and I didn't even spare her a glance, but Wes flashed her the deadest look he could manage.

Mum.

"How are we going to bury her?" Wes wondered aloud, his voice hoarse and scared and confused: this was not ground he knew how to walk. Wes had told me all about how he'd been dealing with our parents' disappearance, and it had essentially equaled that as long as Mum and Dad were physically capable of returning, he could just hope and hope and hope until they did and things would be okay again. But now—Mum wasn't okay. And Dad would never have let someone hurt Mum—truer than I know my own name, I knew that.

"What?" Alec asked, for me: I couldn't summon the energy to try my hand at forming any sentences.

"We don't know her name." Wes pointed out, his voice hoarse to the point that it was almost unfamiliar: this realization made me scoot closer to him, and he put his arm around my shoulders. I curled up against him, squeezing my teary eyes shut. Wes sighed, rubbing my back comfortingly for a second. "We can't make her a gravestone without a name." He pointed out softly, and I felt my tears brim over again at the idea that we had to bury our mother without a gravestone. Oh, God, we had to bury our mother.

I wiped at the tears, and Wes seemed to realize that what he had said might not have been the most tactful thing to say to his little sister. I might have sobbed, but I didn't even have the energy anymore: crying as hard as I had been, for as long as I had been, was hard.

"Kiddo, I'm sorry…" Wes murmured to me quietly, and I just turned my face against this chest, tears falling from my eyes, fast and furious. Wes sighed heavily, hugging me tightly and stroking my hair down lightly, allowing me to calm down for a little bit as I just clung to him, praying that when I opened my eyes, everything would be okay again. "I didn't mean to freak you out…" He whispered to me.

"I just want everything to go back to _normal_," I admitted wetly, pulling back to look up at him, mopping at my wet eyes. "I want Mum and Dad and—Mum." I sobbed, my overwhelming grief leapfrogging my sheer exhaustion. "Why did this happen?"

"There isn't a reason, Sera." Alec said with a rough voice. "Sometimes crap just happens and it sucks." Wes shushed Alec as I twisted to throw him a bewildered look, and he just ducked his head, covering his face with his hands. I hesitated before I reached out to put a comforting hand on his back, and his back shuddered a little: I ducked my own head, my hair falling around my face.

"Serafina, Wesley, Alec." A man's deep voice rumbled, and I glanced up at the Minister of Magic, my red and swollen eyes evident. Alec looked up too, rubbing at the tears dripping from his own eyes, and Wes just grabbed the back of my shirt and lightly tugged me towards him, protectively encircling me with an arm. The young woman auror who had been assigned to watch us was standing up, her eyes wide. "Miss Hornbeck, you may leave, thank you for supervising them." The Minister said, and the woman disappeared. The Minister looked seriously at me. "I am so sorry about your mother."

"Thank you," I said softly, and the Minister's eyebrows drew together as he looked at us for a long moment, evidently surveying our pathetic state, and Alec inched subconsciously closer to Wes and me: I swung my legs back over the edge of the bench so he could slide up more closely to me, and I leaned my head against him.

"If you'd follow me—we're going to go talk in Harry's office." The Minister offered. We didn't really move much, and he sighed, watching us seriously. Wes sighed, disentangling himself from me, and Alec and I rose to our feet carefully. Wes led the way, and Alec and I trailed him: I ducked my head, my hair falling around my face so I could avoid the eyes of the stupid aurors who would rather watch my family drama play out that actually find my parents. Or, my dad.

Everything I thought about led to my mother.

There were no seats in Mr. Potter's office for whatever reason, except for the one that Mr. Potter was occupying behind the desk, and he glanced up at the Minister, Wes, Alec and I briefly before glancing back down at the papers on his desk. He rose to his feet, smiling ruefully at each one of us, and I just stared at him from the tears that hadn't really stopped yet: Wes ran a hand over my hair in an effort to comfort me, but it just seemed like a desperate last ditch attempt. "Alec, kiddo, your parents should be right outside and I actually just want to talk to Wes and Sera right now—" Alec didn't need telling twice: he wanted to see his parents as much as _I_ wanted to see his parents. The door shut behind him, and Mr. Potter sighed softly. "Guys, I just…we need to talk—Kingsley, can you get them some chairs?" Mr. Potter asked. The Minister summoned three large, comfortable chairs, before sinking down in one, and I followed suit, somewhat cautiously. Wes just sat on the edge of the seat, evidently too tense to even take up the entire chair. "Alright, I'll only keep you for a second and then you can see Dean and Monica," Mr. Potter said softly. He waited a beat, waiting for Wes or me to say something, and Mr. Potter sighed when we didn't. "I want to emphasize something to you guys, and it involves details I normally wouldn't bring up." He paused. "Your mother passed away only last night, guys." He said softly. "And what this brings to mind—at least for those of us at the auror department—is that your father, in all likelihood, is still alive."

"Mr. Potter, with all due respect." Wes began, watching my best friend's father with a deadened look. "You and the other aurors and the Minister all seem to be trying your best, but—if you knew my father, you'd know: someone could only have hurt Mum only once Dad was otherwise incapacitated." I closed my eyes slowly, ducking my head while I took a few deep breaths.

"Wes…" Mr. Potter began quietly.

"No." Wes muttered angrily, standing up and scowling darkly at Mr. Potter. "No—it's just—what the hell were they even doing for the Ministry?" Wes demanded angrily. "How could this have _happened_? How do a couple who aren't famous, have no money to pay ransom or any shit like that—how do _they_ get abducted and baffle the Auror Department? My parents minded their own damn _business _and wouldn't have even been in any danger if your goddamn Ministry—" He turned to Minister Shacklebolt, "Hadn't asked them for help on some crack pot project that got my mother _killed_! _How the hell could this have happened_?"

"Wesley, I understand your distress—" the Minister began.

"My _distress_?" Wes asked in a lethally quiet voice, his eyes narrowing as he turned back to Mr. Potter, who was just watching my brother's mental breakdown with a worried expression. "You understand my distress, Minister?" Wes shook his head tightly, his jaw tightly shut. "My mother is _dead_. My dad's god knows where, I'm looking forward to a summer trying to keep my grandmother from _killing_ my sister—" Wes fell silent, scowling at the man in the chair.

"Wes, calm down." I ordered softly, looking up at my brother, and Wes turned to me wordlessly, looking like he was going to start in on me. I just looked up at him tiredly, and all the energy for his yelling seemed to leave his body, as he slumped a little, ducking his head. Tears surfaced in my eyes again, and I felt my bottom lip tremble, even as I struggled to swallow, trying to keep myself from crying. Wes was just as upset as I was, and he wasn't so much older than me that I could depend on him entirely. I needed to be stronger than I was, just until I got back to Hogwarts, where my friends wouldn't be grieving as hard as my brother and godbrother were.

"Sometimes this sort of thing is out of someone's control, Wes." Mr. Potter said gently. "As hard as it may be to consider, your father isn't superman. He can't protect your mother from every single thing, especially not in so danger-fraught a situation as abduction—"

"We know, Mr. Potter." I said quietly. "We faced that fact when Mum and Dad went missing but…" I closed my eyes, lifting my right hand to massage my temple: all of my crying had given me a pounding headache. "This is just…" I bit the inside of my cheek: I would not cry. I would not give Wes more to deal with—he was only fifteen-years-old, I was only twelve-years-old. We were just kids. I opened my eyes, running the hand that had been on my temple through my hair, fixing Mr. Potter with my miserable expression. "This is just the end of the hope we were holding out that everything would somehow be okay." I looked at the Minister briefly, before I looked back at Mr. Potter. "Do you truly believe my father might still be alive?" I asked softly, my voice trembling as I tried to face up to a question I'd been asking myself for a few months, now.

"I don't know." The Minister answered, honestly, and I glanced at him, feeling the tears, now familiar, once more rise in my eyes and spill over silently. Wes just turned violently away from us, turning to Mr. Potter's window and bracing himself against it.

"What were they doing for the Ministry?" I asked softly. Mr. Potter put his hands on the back of his chair, looking at me seriously.

"Your dad was working on getting inside a racist radical group…" Mr. Potter said quietly. "His mum is a MacBride which is a pretty famous name—he had a pretty good chance of getting in, if he pretended to renounce his muggle father." Mr. Potter shrugged. "He wasn't the only man we had inside, either, and your mother joined him because it seemed more convincing that way…" Mr. Potter shrugged. "We assume it had nothing to do with that because we have literally no reason to assume it and this group doesn't have a record of violence like this…"

"But you're not sure." Wes said in a steely voice, turning back from the window. Mr. Potter sighed, shaking his head once.

"We're not sure of anything anymore." Mr. Potter admitted quietly. "But I assure you, we're getting closer everyday to solving this. We'll figure out where Seamus is."

"Before he's dead?" Wes asked cruelly, and I winced, swiping at the tears on my face. Wes spared me a half a glance.

"We're trying." The words made my heart twist: if those were really the best words that Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived and the youngest Chief Auror ever—well, my dad was in trouble. Of course, I knew that already. "I'm sorry, guys, but we just—don't understand so much. We don't know your Mum's name…" Mr. Potter lamented. "I promise you, though, we are putting a hell of a lot of effort into this. We'll figure it out."

"Can we go see Monica and Dean now?" I asked softly, and Mr. Potter nodded tiredly.

"Of course." Mr. Potter murmured, and I rose to my feet carefully. Wes was just glowering, and I swiped at my tears again, slipping between the chairs and to the door. I opened it carefully, and slipped out, and I heard Wes follow me. I ignored him, though, spotting Dean, with an arm anchoring his son to him, and Monica talking to Louis and Jamie's uncle. Dean glanced up at the door and I bit my lip, feeling like I was going to burst into tears again. I wasn't this girl usually—crying girl—but now I just felt an incredible weight where my heart was. I was exhausted and depressed and I wanted my Mum. Above all, I just wanted my mum.

I crossed to my godfather and stood there for a second, trying not to cry, before my godmother, who was standing right beside him, stepped forward and hugged me tightly—and I burst into explosive tears again, clinging to her. "I'm so sorry, baby girl. Shh, I'm so sorry…" Monica murmured in my ear, and I heard a few hiccups in her voice: my mother had been her closest friend. I heard Wes come up behind me, and heard Dean murmur something that I couldn't quite make out: I was having too much of a breakdown. Monica was just hugging me tightly. It wasn't enough, though—I wanted my mother. I needed my mother—not my godmother, but my mother. I needed to know how anyone on this planet could have possibly hurt her. She didn't deserve this death. Didn't deserve the gravestone-less burial that was waiting for her. Mum deserved honor and my father's presence and eulogies. Mum deserved to have died in her sleep in her very old age. And instead she'd been abducted and murdered.

How could this have happened?

………

An hour later, I was climbing back in through the portrait hole, still swiping at my eyes, which were now just streaming endlessly: my grandmother hadn't come to the Ministry, but during the brief minutes that the Minister had chatted with her over the floo, she'd expressed her wishes that we return to Hogwarts. She had also told the Minister that it was for the best that the mudblood whore was dead (I'd heard her because Wes and I had been in the room when Minister Shacklebolt had talked to her). And I'd known, when she said that, how deeply inside his own misery Wes was: my brother hadn't reacted.

The Minister, Mr. Potter, Dean and Monica had all agreed with my grandmother, at least on the Hogwarts thing. Mr. Potter had assured us that we didn't have to take our finals, but it was probably a good idea that we not just go home and sulk. We needed to distracted--but also, I'm pretty sure it was just because my godparents couldn't have handled parenting and mourning my mother's death. Not that Alec, Wes and I were doing that well _either_, but Monica had still been crying when we left her in the Ministry.

The entire Common Room fell silent as we came back in: the exam had let out, probably just half an hour ago, and it was full of kids still studying. It'd only been about two hours since Wes, Alec and I had been pulled from our exams, and I crossed my arms defensively as I waited for Alec and Wes to come through the portrait hole, pulling the sweatshirt that Alec had lent me more tightly around me with one hand. I pulled my sweatshirt sleeve over the other and wiped at my face with the sleeve, trying to daub away the tears. Everyone was staring at us, except for Selma, who had jumped to her feet and hurried over to my brother. Wes grabbed Selma's hand and tugged her to the side of the room, where Eli, his best friend, was standing. He began to talk heatedly in a whisper to them both, and Selma looked heart-broken, gasping a little and covering her mouth with her hands when she heard the news. Alec just crossed to where his friends were sitting on the couch by the fire, sinking down on the couch defeatedly and silently. I didn't even hesitate, knowing where my two boys were. I crossed the room, ignoring every single person I passed before I took off up the boys' staircase. I tore open the door to James and Louis' room, and Rory, Jamie and Louis all looked up from where they'd been studying in front of their fireplace. I just stood there, my lip quivering, and James watched me worriedly.

"Sera, what happened?" Louis asked me hurriedly, pushing himself to his feet, James following not to far after: Rory began to gather the things they'd been studying from, understanding that there would be no more studying right then. I couldn't talk past the lump in my throat right then, so I just blinked, feeling the tears in my eyes surface (again), and Louis crossed to me worriedly. "Ser, c'mon…" He said softly.

"My mum." I said hoarsely, pushing my hair out of my face as the first of my tears boiled over. James looked horrified, already guessing at the next words out of my mouth if only because of the evident panic attack I was having right then. Louis and Rory didn't guess, but only because they, like me, had never wanted to consider this happening. "Your dad, Jamie—he found my mum's body."

There's never been a longer, deeper silence before or since.

..........................

A/N: once again, i hope and pray that no one kills me.


	34. Camisado

A/N:

I just wanted to thank everyone for the amazing response I got last chapter... I'm so glad to know everyone feels for my characters and I love the feedback so much... and for all of those who are unaware, because I was until I bothered to look it up:

a camisado (noun), or camisade, is a surprise attack occurring at night, or at daybreak, when the enemy are supposed to be asleep.

Happy reading!

.........................

Chapter 34

Time is inconsequential when there's nothing to look forward to.

Minutes bleed into hours, then days. I sat in the Great Hall with Alec, both of us simply staring down at the newspapers that were scattered around us on the empty Gryffindor table: it hadn't been twenty four hours since we'd been told Mum had passed away, and it had definitely hit the news. Everything around me—from the Quibbler to the London Times (there was a muggle-friendly version of my story, in case any muggles had seen my parents)—feature a huge photograph of my mother. _Mrs. Finnigan Turns Up Dead; Body Found and Identified as Finnigan Woman; Sad Day for Wesley and Serafina; Who is Mrs. Finnigan?; Where is Mr. Finnigan?_ The headlines got progressively stupider, but they didn't make my sort of dazed confusion any less. Wes hadn't even come down this morning—I assumed he was either still asleep or just unable to get out of bed. I'd only been able to get out of bed after all my roommates had left for this morning's Potions exam.

The professors who weren't proctoring exams today were watching us with a kind of quiet respect, but I couldn't even bring myself to look up at the teachers as I picked at the food I'd barely been able to convince myself to pick up. "I can't believe this is happening." Alec murmured, his gaze on the Witch Weekly photograph, which particularly hit us both: Mum and Wes and me, and Monica and Alec. Mothers and children, all of us laughing—we were in bathing suits, so it must have been summer. Maybe last summer: I couldn't quite think clearly enough to place that memory.

"What if I never know her name?" I asked Alec quietly, not looking up from the magazines. "What if she always has an unmarked gravestone?" That was the current plan: the funeral was going to be in two days, and Headmistress Patil had already announced that any Hogwarts student who wanted to go could arrange to take their exam another day. Something astounding like 90% of the students were missing their exam that day to come to the funeral.

"It doesn't matter." Alec said quietly. "She loved you."

"She loved you too." I pointed out softly. Alec was obviously not my mother's son, but as non-related family went, Alec was as close as I could get. And my mother did love Alec. "Maybe that makes up for it a little bit." I paused. "But I still wish I knew her name." I sighed, lifting my fingers to brush the tips of them over the bottom of the picture on the cover of the magazine. "I think her name was Elisabetta." I said softly. "Because Elisabetta is my middle name. And she went by Elisabeth." I sighed. "And Wesley is a family name too—my dad's dad's name was Wesley." I bit my lip. "And Dean, his middle name, is obviously your dad."

"My middle name is Finnigan Selwyn." Alec said quietly. "Alec Finnigan Selwyn Thomas." He paused. "My mum didn't want to put Selwyn in there but Dad thought it would be good." I didn't move or speak at all, but Alec sensed my curiosity: Selwyn was, after all, his mother's maiden name. "Mum's Dad is a death eater. He's in Azkaban." I swallowed. I knew this, even though the story that the Thomases shared with the world was that he was dead.

"I know." I murmured, closing my eyes. "My dad told me once—he told me not to say anything about it though because it didn't matter because Monica was obviously a really nice person so it didn't matter if her dad was mean. People aren't just a sum of their parents." I opened my eyes, tears beading in my eyes for what felt like the millionth time: I had to be getting dehydrated from all this crying. "Like Dad and his Mum."

"And Wes isn't very much like your Mum." Alec murmured. "He's a lot like your Dad though." He paused. "Mum's a lot like my grandma." My godbrother shrugged. "They're both kind of reserved."

"I think," I began softly. "People only aren't a sum of or reaction to their parents when they're really good, always present parents." I blinked slowly, my mind struggling with the simple concept of thinking through an idea. "I mean—if your parents are well adjusted people and they don't get abducted—I think then the kid those parents have can be a lot of different things. But there are fewer and fewer choice for the children of interrupted or bad parenting." I sighed. "I wonder if that'll happen to Wes and me." Alec nodded, his gaze flicking from magazine to news paper to news paper to magazine, then beginning again. There were beats of silence as we just surveyed the disaster of media that was around us. The magazines and newspapers seemed to fan out from a single point, like shrapnel from a bomb.

Of course, in that analogy, Alec and I were sitting smack in the middle of where the bomb had exploded.

……..

"G'morning guys," Dean said quietly as he walked into the graveyard where we were having my mother's funeral, crossing to where Wes, Alec and I stood with Professor Longbottom, two days later. Monica was holding his hand, and her eyes were already red and puffy, her face already damp.

It was a nice day in the graveyard that was near my grandmother's home: Wes and I had chosen this graveyard so we could visit the grave this summer, if our grandmother let us out of the house/castle she lived in. Apparently it was some huge famous castle, but I didn't really know that much about it. And it felt odd that I would spend my school year in a castle only to get to my home to live in a castle. Again.

"Morning, Dad." Alec said dutifully, but Wes just put an arm around my shoulders, and I leaned my head against him tiredly. I hadn't been sleeping well. Hopefully things would be better at my grandmother's but I doubted it.

There was a loud cracking sound, and my grandmother was suddenly standing there, in dark pants and a sweater vest, her regal gaze landing on Wes and me immediately. Instinctively, Wes shifted in front of me, his arm dropping from around my shoulders, and I straightened up, my hand drifting towards my wand in my pocket. I wondered, somewhere in the back of my mind, whether it would always be this way. We were, after all, going home with our grandmother today. This was the end of the school year for us. And if it would always be this way—if my grandmother and I were always going to be at odds—my godparents might get custody of Wes and me by virtue of the fact that she simply didn't want us anymore.

"Serafina, Wesley." She said in a civil voice, and I watched her warily. "I'm so sorry about your mother's death." It was obvious she didn't mean the words, but I appreciated her lack of child abuse. I just watched her wearily, though, my eyes filling with tears as I just watched her from my protected spot behind Wes.

"Thank you." Wes murmured tiredly, running a hand over his hair and messing it up.

"Your rooms have been prepared and the staff has been informed of your arrival." She looked at us for a long moment, her voice still quiet. Her thin lips were pursed judgmentally as she looked us over, her gaze disapproving. "I will have to arrange for new clothes for you as you seemed to have outgrown your current ones." She glanced at Professor Longbottom. "Their things have been sent to the castle, I assume?"

"They have." Professor Longbottom said carefully, his gaze level with my grandmother's in an almost challenging way: I watched him wearily. It always seemed like a good idea to talk back to my grandmother until you actually did, and I knew that Longbottom was losing patience with my grandmother. "And Ms. MacBride—you should be aware—Selma Langer, Teddy Lupin, Elias Landau, James Potter and Louis Weasley will all be expecting regular correspondence from Wes and Sera." Longbottom seemed to be choosing his words carefully, because he paused for a moment. "If any of them or their parents get the impression that their correspondence with Sera and Wes is somehow threatened, the Auror Department will have to check in." Longbottom smiled shallowly, almost a smirk. "Just for security, you know."

"Neville Longbottom, I understand your parents died when you were very young and you were then raised by your grandmother." My grandmother said, and I winced, closing my eyes. This woman was soulless, now, I was sure. No one did that without realizing how tactless it was. "Was your every motion monitored by the press or the Ministry like my grandchildren's?"

"No, Ma'am." Longbottom said softly. My grandmother looked back at us, looking over us, before she raised an eyebrow at how I was half-hidden behind my brother.

"Serafina, I don't bite, you know." She murmured sarcastically, and I inclined my head silently, unable to come up with an appropriate response as I stepped sideways, then forward, so I was no longer hidden. "Your dress is too small." She noted critically.

"I grew." I explained shortly, glancing up at her nervously.

"We shall have to take care of that." She said, pursing her lips, and I swallowed bravely. She paused. "You must look a lot like your mother because you don't bear much resemblence to my son." She noted.

"Wes looks like Dad." I offered shakily, and I felt Dean and Monica's worried gazes on me: I wasn't sure whether they'd ever seen my grandmother get angry (probably not, now that I thought about it) but they had heard enough about it that they were scared _for_ us. "I don't look so much like either of them." I shrugged a little.

"Hi, guys." Mr. Potter came up with Mrs. Potter, Teddy, James, Albus and Lily, all of them in black and silent. James and my eyes locked, and he swallowed a little. I just bit my lip worriedly, before I felt my grandmother's sharp gaze flick from me to James, and I glanced up at her worriedly: God, don't let her say anything to James.

"Hi." I mumured, looking up at the man unsurely, and Mrs. Potter came forward to hug us both, tears in her eyes. She pressed a kiss to the top of my head, and just squeezed Wes extra tightly before releasing him, her gaze switching between us.

"Angels, I'm so sorry about your mum." Mrs. Potter said gently to us, and I nodded once, briefly, avoiding her prying gaze. If I kept thinking about different things, I wouldn't have to focus on what I was doing at this cemetery today with literally everyone I knew except my mother. I couldn't concentrate on what she was saying to me. She released us, glancing at our grandmother, and with a slightly icy smile, she held out a hand: "Ms. MacBride it's a pleasure to meet you." She said, sounding anything but. "I'm Ginny Potter, I'm James's mother--James and Sera are quite close." She paused, evidently waiting for my grandmother to say something, and when she didn't, plowed on bravely: I threw a desperate look up at Wes, but my brother had just sort of turned away from the entire conversation, and was making his way carefully over to where our mother's open grave was: her coffin would be lowered immediately after that. I shot a desperate glare in his vague direction, before looking at my best friend's mother, panic seizing me. If my grandmother was awful to Mrs. Potter, and Mrs. Potter thus hated her, would that bleed over to me? "Sera stayed at our house over winter and spring breaks...?"

"Your maiden name is Weasley?" My grandmother demanded loudly. I winced, pulling away from her, but she put an iron hand on my shoulder, keeping me at her side, and I glanced up at Mrs. Potter. My best friend's mother smoothed down her skirt tensely, evidently too angry to remain still as color rose to her freckled cheeks.

"Yes--I believe you might have been at school with my mother, Molly Prewett? And my dad, Arthur Weasley?" She asked in a tightly wound voice: she hated my grandmother. Which proved her good taste--but I still feared losing the haven that the Potters' home had become. And I just loved the Potter-Weasley clan too much to let them go away because of my crazy, racist grandmother.

"Yes, yes--your uncle Fabian and I were quite good friends." My grandmother said with something that sounded almost like warmth in her voice, and I felt my eyes widen as I glanced up at her, surprised. What the _hell_? My grandmother was not a woman I had ever considered having friends: I just assumed that she'd been the angry loner bully. Like Daisy or Bethany or even Brian Gallagher. "Serafina, say hello." My grandmother ordered, once more harsh-voiced, and I swallowed past the lump in my throat. My grandmother struck the fear of God into me even with the three seemingly-innocent words I'd just heard; that couldn't be healthy.

"Hello Mrs. Potter." I said softly, and I saw the sadness flick over James's mother's face as she looked down at me sympathetically.

"Ms. Weasley." My grandmother corrected sharply, and I glanced up at her confusedly. She had an embarrassed look to her face. "Serafina!" She hissed, and I took an uneasy step away from her.

"I actually do go by Mrs. Potter." James's mother said with an unsure smile, which was still quite icy. I glanced desperately back at Wes, then at Jamie, who was looking angrier and angrier, and the other Potters, who either looked worried or alarmed, before I looked up at my grandmother again.

"Potters aren't pureblood, dear, I wouldn't recommend that." My grandmother said in cautionary voice, and I swallowed. "Don't make the same mistake my son did, he got some mudblood woman pregnant--I'm just pleased they never got married," My grandmother confided in James's mother, who looked absolutely disgusted at this revelation. "I couldn't stand that girl being part of my family--even her children bare some marks of her... dirtied heritage." My grandmother glanced down at me distastefully. "She apparently has her mother's hair. It's certainly not _my_ son's"

"Stop." I muttered, ducking my head, and my grandmother's grip on my shoulder tightened. I swallowed for courage before looking up at her glaring; I saw in my peripherals the alarmed and worried expressions that the Potters, Dean and Monica, and Longbottom had all taken on. "Just stop. It's her freaking funeral and you can't even hold your crazy prejudice in for the _ten minutes_ you have to actually talk to people--"

"C'mere." Wes said tightly: he had apparently come back over and pulled me out of my grandmother's grasp faster than I would have imagined possible. "I'm going to take her to get some water..."

"You cannot speak to me that way--" My grandmother began heatedly, her eyes narrowing.

"You can't speak about my _mum_ that way!" I retorted. "She's gone and you can't just--" I sighed in exasperation, stomping my foot, tears in my eyes. "Just shut up, please!"

"Sera, kid, shush." Wes ordered under his breath, sounding frantic. My grandmother was just seething with her anger, her eyes narrowed as she glared at me angrily.

"You stupid child, get away from me." She spat at me. "You are too much like your mother, she was just a silly mudblood as well--"

"You didn't even _know_ her!" I cried, my tears spilling over. "Stop it!" Wes hugged me against him tightly, and I glared at my grandmother tearfully from his arms: Wes smoothed down my hair comfortingly, and I hid my face in his nice shirt, not caring if I got it wet with my tears.

"I'm taking her for some water." Wes said quietly over my head, his voice leaving no room for argument. "And if you talk to her like that again, I swear, we're just leaving, understand? No hogwarts, no your house, we'll just leave." Wes pulled me away from her, leading me away. I leaned against him as I lifted a hand to my face, swiping away my tears before I sobbed softly. "I'm gonna kill her, I swear," Wes muttered under his breath, turning to me so he was facing me, and I looked at him seriously. "Kid, she's just a really nasty old woman--she'll never hurt you, understand?" Wes told me heatedly. "I will _never_ let that happen. She just talks and talks, she's insane, but what she says is _wrong_ in the most essential of ways." He tilted his head to the side. "Mum was a great person. We don't know her name but that doesn't matter. She was our _mother_, we knew her." Wes smoothed down my hair when I sobbed again. "Alright?"

"Why does she--hate me so much?" I asked him, a hiccup interupting my sentence before I continued. Wes winced painfully, glancing back at the adults behind us. My grandmother was walking quickly towards the cemetery directory, but everyone else was just watching us, horrified and unabashed. Dean, especially, looked heartbroken, and James looked legitimately angrier than I'd ever seen him.

"I don't have any idea in hell." Wes admitted, his anger right up against the surface of the words. They didn't help, though.

God, I hated this day.

......................

"She leaves behind two children, Wesley and Serafina, and her husband, Seamus Finnigan, is still missing. May we all hope that he will return safely to his children." The Minister of Magic said quietly. I just stared straight at the coffin in front of me, tearless. Curiously, I wasn't crying at my mother's funeral. Just at everything else.

But the fact of it was, most of the people here, were here for Wes, Dean, Monica and me. Not Mum. Mum had met literally no one around us. It was astounding, what you realized when you were actually confronted with facts: Eli Landau, Wes's best friend who'd been a good friend for all of Wes's time at Hogwarts, had never met Mum. Neither had Selma. Mum hadn't taken Wes to the Hogwarts Express before, staying home with me while Dad took Wes. This had been the first year Mum had come to the Hogwarts Express because she'd had no other excuse, and even then, we'd been so late that Wes and I nearly missed the train. Mum had hidden in plain sight, and, God, had it worked. Her own children didn't really know her.

The Minister of Magic was, for some inexplicable reason, doing the service: since we were magical, there was no religion, per se. So usually you just had a close friend of the deceased or a family member say the things that needed to be said. But since this was such a high profile _murder_, (a point that my increasingly frustrating grandmother had made) the Minister had wanted to somehow make up the Ministry's failing in our parents case to Wes and me, and this had seemed like the appropriate way to do it. Apparently, though, it'd just drawn _more _paparazzi, because pictures were being taken every half second, it felt like.

Finally the service was over, and Mum's casket was lowered into the ground in pure silence. I did tear up a little bit at that, but I stood there, stock still as ever, my hands folded neatly in front of me. Wes wiped away a few of his own tears surreptitiously, visible only in my peripheral vision, because I couldn't bring myself to glance over at him. I couldn't trust myself to keep it together if I saw Wes losing it. I only had so much ability to smother my grief. Seeing Wes break down would tear me apart.

The service was over, and I heard quiet murmurs and a few tearful sniffs: I just turned to face the people who had been seated behind me: Jamie, Louis, Rory, and Edie, and their parents. I bit my lip, feeling my eyebrows draw together of their own accord. James looked stoic but his eyes were too shiny: Rory was still wiping away tears, as were Louis and Edie. I just sniffed a little before I reached out and hugged Louis tightly, kneeling a little on my folding chair so I could reach him, and he hugged me back tightly. I just took shallow, soft breaths in an effort to ward off the tears building in my eyes and throat.

"I'm so sorry, Ser..." Louis murmured in my ear. "I'm so incredibly sorry." I pulled back.

"Thanks," I said softly, tucking a few strands of hair behind my ear. Wes passed me to cross the aisle to where Selma was sitting with her parents, and Selma just grabbed his hand, reaching up to run a hand over his hair tenderly. Wes seemed to crumple, and she pulled her face down to her shoulder, kissing his cheek and saying something to him softly: I just looked back at my friends.

"D'you need anything?" Edie asked me softly. I sighed.

"No." I murmured. A tall woman, who was Edie's mother I assumed, from the resemblance, smiled sympathetically at me when she saw me.

"Hello, Sera." She said gently to me, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, before she tucked the cloth back into her purse. "I'm Susan Bones, Edie's mother--your father was a friend of mine in Hogwarts..." She paused. "I am just so sorry about your mother."

"He mentioned you a couple times." I said with a shallow half-smile, the only thing I could manage at this point. To be fair, though, this woman at least knew my father. Which I would have bet was more than you could say for the majority of this crowd, who knew either Dean or Monica, or Wes and me.

"That's so sweet—I just wanted to let you know that if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask." She said quietly, and I nodded. "And I know your father will return safe and sound. He's a good man."

"Thank you." I murmured: that was apparently what you said at funerals. Wes had given me the instruction, and I was pleased enough to do it, because I had no idea what to do, otherwise. And while Monica had given me the advice to say whatever I wanted to say, whatever seemed appropriate, I didn't want to say _anything_. I wanted to curl up in bed and just lie there. Not that my parents would have approved of my grieving choices—my mother had been one of those get-up-and-go types. She'd never taken us places, but we'd been encouraged to run around, go to the nearby muggle playground, when we were younger. Then she'd just encouraged Wes to play quidditch when he was home from Hogwarts, so he could make the team. I'd been allowed to participate as soon as Wes swore up and down to our father that no bludger would ever touch me.

"Sera! What are you feeling on the day of your mother's--" That was the paparazzi, and I felt my head spin as I turned to try to deal with them--and suddenly Eric Davies, the body guard I'd had for all of five seconds before my grandmother refused him, was standing there, holding the press back.

"No comment." Eric said firmly. He glanced back at me, and I just looked up at him, feeling my eyes sting with the beginnings of tears, before I turned away. I forced myself to focus on something else, like my friends spilling out from their row with their parents, so I stepped to the end of my row, away from the press. Jamie came up to me, and I swallowed, looking back at the grave before I looked up at Jamie.

"I can't believe this is happening." I murmured in a daze, meeting Jamie's confused with my own teary, confused one. "I don't know—what—" I paused, feeling the tears resurface in my eyes, and I wondered how this could possibly continue to happen. Did I even have any water left in my body? "I don't really know what to do without her." I said shakily, and James sighed, looking down. "She's never coming back.

"I know that it really doesn't seem like this right now." James said softly, his voice tight. "But you're going to be okay. And this is still going to _suck_, but you'll survive." James assured me, and I sniffed, wiping away a tear that had beaded in my eye. "And, Merlin, am I so sorry, Ser. Your mum sounded like a really amazing person." I pressed a hand to my forehead, trying to contain my tears as I ducked my head, and James reached out, bringing my head to his shoulder as he took a half step forward, and I sobbed softly, my arms slipping around him tightly. James didn't even say anything, just resting his cheek on my hair, and I just sagged against him, my shoulders shaking.

After almost a full minute of my trying to quiet my breathing and tears, I pulled back from James, looking at him seriously before I looked down self-consciously, a hasty blush crossing my cheeks as I tugged down my dress in an effort to make it longer: my grandmother had not been wrong in saying that it didn't fit me.

"Sera?" I glanced up sharply at the familiar voice: Greg. Greg and a man who I assumed was his father were standing in front of me, Greg looking awkwardly formal in his suit: his hair was in the crew cut he'd had it in all year, the sort of gold-red color obvious in the bright morning light, and his face was pale beneath his freckles. "Sera, I'm so sorry about your mum." He told me in a quiet voice, and I nodded once, the corners of my mouth twitching into something that resembled a polite smile.

"Thanks, Greg." I said softly. His dad put a hand on top of his head, sliding his hand down so it settled at the base of his neck, and I was startled at how uncomfortable Greg looked, even as he squirmed away from his dad. Greg glanced at where Eli was standing with Wes, now, before looking back at me apologetically.

"Hello, Sera, I'm Andreas Landau—I never did meet your mother but I can tell she will be missed dearly." Mr. Landau said in a gravelly voice, and I nodded a little, looking up at the man seriously. I tried to remember what I knew about the Landaus—I knew they were pureblood, and I think Selma had told me that Eli was the first in generations to be Gryffindor. And maybe some relative of his had been a death eater, but I couldn't quite remember. "Is your grandmother here somewhere? I'd like to say hello if possible…" He continued after a moment, and I straightened up.

"Dad—" Greg muttered, evidently embarrassed by this turn of events.

"Greg, we have to say hello to Saraid." Mr. Landau said in a low voice, and Greg ducked his head uncomfortably, before he looked up at me apologetically. I could only grimace, too worn out to actually repress my grief too much.

"I think she's over there." I said softly, pointing in the vague direction of where my grandmother was standing, talking to the Minister.

"Come, Greg." Mr. Landau said hurriedly, leading his son away from us, and I just ran a hand down my face, looking at James agonizedly. I wanted to go to bed—more than anything, I just wanted to be left the hell alone so I could decompress.

And I was still standing here in front of my mother's grave with my best friend, while my big brother cried fifteen feet away.

"Hey squirt," Teddy said carefully, coming up to James and I, and, I noted, placing himself directly between me and the brunt of the photographers. "Let's go get—"

"Serafina." My grandmother's steely voice said, as she suddenly came up beside Teddy, James and I. "We're leaving now." She glanced at Teddy. "Paws off, half-breed." She hissed, grabbing my arm and jerking me away from Teddy, and I stumbled as she released me, James catching me worriedly. "Where's your brother?"

"The service just ended—" I said, spinning towards her and trying for time. "Please, can't we just stay a little longer…"

"Serafina, stop whining _right now_." My grandmother hissed at me.

"Please—" She reached out and grabbed my arm, and I jerked out of her grasp, backing up a step.

"Little mudblood—"

"Stop it," I begged, scrambling backwards through one of the rows of chairs. I glanced frantically at James and Teddy, who seemed to be sort of paralyzed with the panic that hit me every time I talked to my grandmother. She was advancing past James and Teddy now, coming forward in an ominous I'm-going-to-kill-you-right-now way.

"You little filthy child, you're _never_ leaving your room—No more school, no more friends, no letters, nothing—" She threatened loudly as she approached, and tears built in my eyes as I glanced behind and around me—Wes was too far away, Teddy was too far away, Dean and Monica were too far away. No one to stop this, not this time.

"Ms. MacBride!" That was Professor Longbottom, but I knew, suddenly, that it wouldn't be enough. I felt panic coil in my stomach and between my lungs as my grandmother got closer and closer and I ran out of space. "What are you—"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry—" I said hurriedly, before I just easily stepped onto a chair and just hopped over the back, thankful for the sudden barrier. Everyone was now simply staring at us, including Wes, who was two rows up, standing with Selma and Eli, now. I crossed my arms defensively, and my grandmother looked from me up to all the unwelcoming faces around her. No one here agreed with her treatment of Wes and me. But there was still nothing anyone could do because she wasn't abusive in the sense where we had proof and crap.

"We're leaving." She said finally, to all of the angry looking adults around us, and I looked past her to where Wes was standing behind her, with Selma and Eli. Wes looked incredibly exhausted. He wasn't really able to handle this disaster anymore than I was. I painted him to be superman but he was just a kid. I was just a kid. And our Mum was dead and my father was gone, for the time being.

"Ms. MacBride, I would suggest letting Serafina and Wesley stay." Minister Shacklebolt said quietly, crossing to beside my grandmother, and I winced: this would not be taken well. "As this is their mother's funeral and these people are mostly here for them." He gestured to the people around us.

"I am not going to indulge my grandchildren's friendships with people lesser than themselves!" My grandmother said angrily, spinning to face the Minister. "Nor am I going to indulge this control that the Ministry and Hogwarts Faculty are trying to exert over them—they are _my_ son's children, to raise and punish as I wish! You have _all,_" She gestured from the Potters, to the Weasleys, to the Minister, to Longbottom, to Dean and Monica, "Shown that you are too _weak_ to raise successful children!" Her voice turned shrill with her frustration as she continued. "Wesley is _dating_ a _mud—_"

"Don't call her that." Wes said angrily to my grandmother, his arm around Selma's waist, but my grandmother couldn't have cared less.

"_Blood_! Serafina is best friends with that _Potter_ boy!" She waved a hand in the air, putting the other on her hip. "The Potters are—blood traitors and tainted blood alike!" She sighed explosively. "How does no one understand what a disaster this is?"

"Stop talking about the Potters that way." I said in grating voice, pushing some of my hair out of my face and swiping at my eyes, and Wes released Selma, taking a nervous step towards me. "They've been better to me than you have, certainly."

"Oh you ungrateful little _brat_!" My grandmother turned to hiss at me, her face twisted angrily. "Do you think anyone else would have taken you and your brother in after that mudblood _whore_ my son got pregnant?" She shook her head.

"_Yes!_" I said desperately, tears overflowing again. I knew that I'd grown too tolerant of my grandmother when I could let the names she called my mother slide because I had realized I couldn't stop her racism. I slipped my hand across my face, brushing away some of the tears on my face with the sleeve of the gray sweater of Monica's I'd worn. "Dean and Monica tried for custody of us! They're still _trying_ for custody of us—I don't even understand why the hell you decided to take Wes and me! You hate us!" I hiccup-sobbed a little. "Why would you put us and yourself _through_ that?"

Silence.

There was almost an entire minute of sheer silence, my grandmother's heavy breathing the only sound, before she spoke, finally. "MacBrides do not except charity."

"I'm a Finnigan." I said hoarsely another tear streaking down my face, and Wes took another step towards me.

"Ser," My brother said quietly, calling me over, and I slid out of my row, keeping an eye on my grandmother as I crossed to where Wes, Selma and Eli were standing. Selma hugged me tightly, running a comforting hand over my hair, and I just leaned my head against her tiredly.

"You okay, kid?" Selma murmured to me, and I just shrugged one shoulder. She sighed, looking towards Wes, who looked like he was about to kill my grandmother.

And then my grandmother was standing behind me and had a firm grip on forearm. "We're leaving now." She said, mostly to my brother, and Wes glanced from me to our grandmother, before he just stepped forward silently. My grandmother just put a hand on his shoulder, and then she apparated away.

And suddenly we were standing just inside my grandmother's castle's gate.

I couldn't help the feeling of utter defeat as I realized there was a wall around the estate, a locked gate. All the floos were probably cut off and I didn't know how to apparate yet. We had lost and my grandmother had won and my mother was dead.

It was all over.


	35. Tell Me I'm a Wreck

A/N: This is the chapter to top 200,000 words :D happy reading!

Chapter 35

_Dear Sera,_

_Hi sweetheart! Are you alright? Dean and I are worried about you and Wes—and after that nonsense that she said at the funeral, it's obvious that things aren't going to get better of their own accord. I also wanted to reassure you that what you said to your grandmother is true: Dean and I _are_ working for custody in October. You just need to hang in till then, alright?_

_Xo_

_Monica_

……………

_Dear Sera,_

_I am so sorry about your mummy. Jamesie told me you were sad and that I should write you because it'd make you happy. I hope you stop being sad. And that you like my picture of the turtle that Hugo and I found yesterday. And that I see you next Christmas._

_Sincerely_

_Lily Luna Potter_

……………

_Sera—_

_Sorry about Lily's letter to you—she just saw how sad the funeral was and decided she wanted to draw you a picture. And she decided that a really gross turtle would be a great way to make you feel better._

_How your grandmother's? Is she treating you okay? I mean, she's not hitting you or anything, right? Just because she looked like she was hurting your arm and then I didn't get to say goodbye at the Funeral because she just apparated away with you… were you okay with that, by the way? I know apparition freaks you out._

_Write soon._

_James_

……………

_Sera,_

_I'm so sorry about your mum. And I'm so sorry that we fought at Hogwarts—it was stupid. You can like whoever you want to, I shouldn't get to be mad about that. And I think you've got enough on your plate already without me being a right git added to that._

_Sorry,_

_Louis_

…………

_Dear Sera,_

_James and Louis told me they hadn't heard from you and I realized I hadn't either… Are you okay? Your grandmother's scary and I'm worried about you._

_Also, Conan told me he hasn't heard from Wes._

_Love_

_Rory_

………………

_Dear Sera,_

_Maybe you didn't get my last letter? I'm kind of worried, though—Louis and Rory haven't heard from you either. And apparently neither have Conan or Eli._

_Miss you!_

_James_

……………

_Sera,_

_Are you getting these letters? Eli told Teddy who told Victoire that Eli hadn't heard from Wes either—are you guys not allowed to write people? I thought my dad told me that Longbottom was going to tell your grandmother that that wasn't okay…_

_Xoxo_

_Louis_

……………

_Sera Sweetheart,_

_I'm worried about you—neither you nor Wes have responded and we're getting very, very concerned. Please write us—or if you're angry for whatever reason, please write Alec. Just let us know you're okay, angel._

_Love,_

_Monica_

…………_.._

_Sera,_

_Where are you? No one's heard from you. And no one's heard from Wes, either—Selma told Teddy she hadn't heard from Wes and now Ted thinks something's up too. Write me._

_Love,_

_Jamie_

……………_._

_Hey,_

_Okay, so I'm writing to you, which obviously means there's a problem. James wrote me to find out whether I'd heard from you and I haven't but sometimes that happens anyway._

_Sera, write to people. They're really worried. And now I am too._

_Alec_

……………

It'd been two weeks since I'd gotten to my grandmother's, and I'd gotten a lot of letters, none of which I'd responded to. I would have, but I wasn't allowed to write. Or rather, I could write, but since I wasn't allowed use my owl, I couldn't _send _what I wrote. In fact, I didn't even know what my grandmother had done with my owl, but I was under the impression she'd sold Duke. Poor bird probably thought I hated him, now.

I'd been pretty much banned to my room. Or, well, my room and the kitchen. But I wasn't supposed to be in any other room in the house except my room and the kitchen, and I was only supposed to come out when I absolutely had to, for food. And oddly enough, I didn't mind it. The alternative was that I stayed out of my room and saw my grandmother pretty frequently and had to battle with her. The beauty of this system was that I literally had not seen her since the day she'd shown Wes and I our rooms.

My room was actually pretty large, with a nice queen size bed and a big, full bookshelf. I had a dresser, and a mirror, and a desk and a chair. Oddly enough, I had more furniture here than I had at home, where people had actually _cared_ about me. But this room was darker—the walls were made of stone (since this was a castle, and castles are made of stone). I had a really big window, which was nice, because I could look out at the gardens, which were perfectly manicured by my grandmother's staff. But I could only open my window about two inches, lest I allow in the owls of my friends and thus be able to write back to them with their owls. So even though there was in fact light present in my room, it was still pretty dull. But I'd hung up the picture of the turtle Lily had sent me and I had a poster of the Roman Red Caps that Mum had given me for my tenth birthday. And I'd hung up some photographs. So the room was at least, indistinguishably mine, even if it was dark and lonely.

I swung my legs over the side of my bed, sitting up from where I'd been lying, the pile of letters I'd read over for the tenth time. I really wanted to write letters back. But I couldn't. I pushed myself to my feet instead, stretching my arms above my head and clasping my hands, arching my back. Then I dropped my arms back to my sides before I glanced at my closed door. I hadn't seen Wes in a day and a half, since we ran into each other getting lunch. And I wasn't technically allowed in his room. But I was pretty sure my grandmother was out, because I'd heard her apparate this morning and I hadn't heard her return, yet.

I grabbed the pile of letters that were on my bed, tucking some of my hair behind my ear as I slipped into the hallway. I ducked my head, hugging the letters to my chest as I took a couple steps down the hallway before I started on the long staircase downstairs. My bedroom was at the top of a tower, very much like Rapunzel's in the fairytale. Except, y'know, I was twelve, not however old Rapunzel was supposed to be, and I didn't have a prince and I wasn't a princess. I was just some kid with a creepy grandmother.

I got to the bottom of the staircase and opened the door with a shove from my shoulder—it got stuck sometimes—and peeked into the hallway warily. My grandmother wasn't there, and although some house elves and a maid were, I'd learned from experience that no one cared enough about my comings and goings to report to her. I walked purposefully, before stopping in front of Wes's room. I knocked nervously, and Wes opened his door a half-beat later, looking confused. I just pushed past him, and he closed the door behind me, turning to me.

"You're going to get in trouble, genius." He told me with a small frown as I crossed to his bed and sat on it, crossing my legs.

"I'm bored." I told him, my overwhelming maturity shining through. I held up the pile of letters I'd brought with me. "And I think my friends are pretty sure I'm dead." Wes frowned, coming forward and taking the pile of parchment out of my hand. He glanced over the first few, before he scowled at one, glancing up at me.

"Louis likes you?" He asked, and I exhaled shortly, leaning forward to snatch my letters back from him. I frowned defensively at Wes, and he raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, don't hand me papers you don't want me to read." He said. I shrugged defensively, looking down at the letter. "But since I saw it, Louis likes you?"

"He and Jamie both do." I admitted softly. "And I think they're fighting over it, because they've both liked me since, September or something, I'm not really sure—but anyway, they promised each other they wouldn't do anything because they're cousins and they've been best friends forever, Wes, like, like—Alec and me, y'know? They're family and friends, and they didn't want me to come between them…" I sighed shortly. "And then Jamie asked me to the dance without talking about it with Louis but it wasn't—planned. It wasn't like James _planned_ to betray Louis, if you can even really call it betrayal because that conveys malcontent and James really didn't want to hurt Louis's feelings. But Alanis asked him to the dance and he said no because he was taking me and then he told me about that and how I didn't have to agree if I didn't want to he'd just said my name because he didn't want to take Alanis because that implied that he liked her so he said he was taking me." I said all in one breath, the words nearly tripping over one another on their way out of my mouth. Wes raised his eyebrows. "It's not as weird as it sounds, I swear, and he was really—I mean it was just—really classic James, but really nice, too, y'know? Because Greg Landau asked me to the Holiday dance except that was a fail because then Brian bullied him into not bringing me and Greg was really embarrassed that I called him on that so when we had that sparring defense seminar thing he got really mad when I beat him…" I shrugged.

"Greg Landau asked you to a dance?" Wes asked with a mischevious grin, and I grabbed his pillow, pressing it onto my face as I fell back on his bed. "Aw, c'mon, I'm your brother—I don't get to make a little bit of fun of you?" He demanded. Wes seemed to replay part of my speech in his head because he followed that point up with something else. "Greg _bailed_ on taking you to the dance?"

"Brian Gallagher got super mad at him for asking me—I'm not even sure why, it's not like he should have a problem with that. Brian has nothing to lose by Greg bringing me. And then he made fun of Louis me at the dance even though we were just talking after James and I had a fight…"

"My first year was not this complex." Wes pointed out sympathetically, grabbing the pillow off my face and looking down at me. "And it sounds like Brian Gallagher, for all that he's a complete asshole for hurting you, likes you."

"Alright, some girls have guys who are friends." I told him with a frown. "I realize that you were best friends with Selma all those years because you had a super huge crush on her and didn't want to say anything about it, but we're not all _you_, Wesley. Some of us are more mature than that."

"You would not be on that list of people." Wes said flatly. "And of the two of us, which one of us is obviously better at calling who likes you, hmm? It's not _you_." Wes said dramatically, grinning down at me, and I blushed. "It's someone else. Who is the best, coolest big brother _ever_—"

"I think it's Alec." I said suspiciously, and Wes pressed a hand to his heart, putting an expression of awful hurt on his face.

"Oh, how you wound me." He said sadly. I giggled, scooting over on Wes's big bed so he could lay down on his side, and we stared up at his ceiling. Wes had taped a bunch of pictures of him and his friends on the ceiling above his bed, and there was also a picture of him as a little kid, asleep—at five years old, maybe? Six?—with a little blond toddler in a little pink dress lying in the bed beside him. "Is that me?" I asked him, squinting.

"Yep." He said, smiling a little. "You were a fat baby."

"Hey!" I protested. I paused. "But yeah, seriously." I frowned a little. "I don't remember us ever sharing a bedroom though."

"We didn't. You were like my shadow, though, so you spent a lot of time in my room." He pointed out. "And you had a paralyzing fear of thunderstorms. So you'd come into my room at night when you were scared." He chuckled softly. "You did it up until I was, what, eight?"

"I don't remember that." I murmured, surprised, looking at Wes. "Why'd I stop?" Wes winced at that, running a hand over his hair.

"Because when I was eight and you were five we were arguing about who got go on the slide and I pushed you." Wes said plainly. "And then you told Dad I pushed you and I lied and said you'd fallen and Dad believed me and not you." He sighed heavily. "You got really mad so you started to not come in when you were scared and then we fought more." Wes looked sort of guilty feeling. "It was sort of the beginning of the end for you and me." He glanced down at me. "Like how we used to fight."

"Oh." I murmured. I paused. "Seriously? That's how our arguing started?"

"Yep."

"Over you pushing me when we were in line for the slide."

"Yep."

"I must have been one of those really annoying super sensitive kids." I muttered, and Wes laughed quietly. I sat up, grabbing my friends' letters to me and flipping through them, stopping at Jamie's. I looked down at it, before I glanced up at Wes. "Y'know, my friends know something's up." I told him after a moment, my eyebrows drawing together as I cracked my knuckles: Wes winced. "James and Louis have talked long enough to figure out that neither of them has heard from me, and Rory hasn't either." I tilted my head to the side, frowning a little. "James wrote Alec and then Alec sent me a letter, so _he_ knows no one's heard from me, which means that Monica and Dean know too. And Selma, Conan and Eli haven't heard from you. And Selma and Eli wrote Teddy." I paused. "So the Potters, at least, know that no one's heard from us." I paused, tucking a few strands of hair. "James and Louis—they're _really _worried." I watched Wes's expression, hoping for some stroke of genius that would allow me to write my friends, but he didn't come up with anything. "You haven't really seen Jamie worried. I don't want to do that to him."

"What d'you expect to do about it?" Wes asked quietly, and I pulled back, a little stung by the words. Wes was usually nicer to me about this kind of thing, more comforting than confrontational—but then again, I was depending on him a lot. I wanted him to fix everything that was wrong, when he was just three years and four months older. That was a lot to expect of him. Wes just held my gaze seriously. "Sera, we're in trouble, here. I don't want to scare you, but I would guess that, unless she really and truly flips out, we're stuck here this summer and next, probably without word from our friends." He said firmly. "She really hates the Potters, she really hates everyone but the Landaus, and of course, I'm friends with the one member of that family that is nothing but unacceptable." Wes rolled his eyes. "It sucks, but we're going to have to tough this out."

"Why does she even want us here?" I demanded softly. "She hates us."

"It's a family pride thing, I think." Wes said quietly. "She's trying to prove the MacBrides are still as powerful as they've always been." He cracked an ironic grin, and I didn't smile back: Wes when he was this grim-sounding scared me, a little bit. "I think, oddly enough, family's really important to her. Which is why we're here instead of with Dean and Monica."

"How is that possible?" I demanded desperately. "We're her grandchildren! If family was important to her—wouldn't she love us?"

"I'm going to sound absolutely insane, here, but hang with me for a sec," Wes asked, and I nodded once. "Because Eli explained this to me because I spend a lot of time moaning and groaning about what a psychopath she is and Eli has first-hand knowledge of pureblood insanity." I nodded again. "Alright, I think her saying those things about Mum, trying to distance Dad from her and us from her—I think that is her way of accepting us as family. She just writes off Selma and James and people who aren't pureblood—but for us she's trying to—in a really twisted way—make us pureblood, or at least _accidentally_ of mixed blood." Wes said carefully, and I swallowed.

"But she's awful." I muttered.

"I didn't say it excused it—I just meant she thinks it makes sense." Wes said firmly. "But it doesn't. Not to a logical person." He sighed, glancing away for a second before he looked back to me, apologetically. "Kiddo, I'm sorry that this is such a disaster."

"Not your fault." I said softly, swallowing bravely.

"You're my responsibility," Wes reasoned quietly. "And now you're living with her. And it's not my fault, per se. But I should have found a way to do something for you to make this better." Wes said firmly, raising his eyebrows as if daring me to argue with him. I just stood up carefully. "I'm trying, though, okay?"

Trying. That was what Mr. Potter had told Wes and me at the Ministry of Magic. He'd told us, a little desperately, that he was trying. That had been the best he could offer us—the children of a former friend, the godchildren of a good friend, and his son's best friend. Trying. And now Wes was running on empty and offering me the same sentiment. Except this time, I felt bad for Wes.

"It's okay." I said after a second. Wes sighed, looking away. I'd known he'd needed to hear the words, so I'd said them. And he knew that. "I'll see you later, okay?" I said, raising a hand to say goodbye, hugging my letters to my chest again. Wes nodded, and I slipped into the hallway.

"You're not supposed to be in there." A woman's voice came quietly, and I froze dead, my eyes widening. She didn't sound like my grandmother, but that didn't matter—if she _told _my grandmother, I'd be killed.

I turned carefully to face the woman standing in front of me. She crossed her arms, and I swallowed, biting my lip. She was about my parents' age, in grey-with-pinstripes suit pants, and a frilly white shirt on that made her look a little bit silly. Her hair was black, with brown highlights, and she looked down at me with a small frown. "Who're you?" I asked quietly.

"Astoria Malfoy." She said, scowling. "Saraid asked me to stay here with you all while she went to have lunch with my mother-in-law."

"Oh." I said after a second. "You're not going to tell her I was in Wes's room, are you?" I asked anxiously, biting my lip.

"Maybe." Mrs. Malfoy said to me, her voice level. "You're Serafina, right?"

"Yes." I said quietly.

"I'm sorry about your mother." She said quietly. Her gaze flicked to the letters that I was clutching to my chest, and she glanced back at me, a small smile on her face. "Letters to your friends?" She asked me, her voice less cold.

"I'm not allowed." I told her, biting my lip. "My grandmother took away my owl."

"Did you do something wrong?" She asked me, raising her eyebrows.

"I am my mother's daughter." I said dramatically, putting a hand over my heart, and Mrs. Malfoy cracked a smile. "No, but my mum was probably muggle born." I explained with a shrug. "That's evidently a crime punishable by isolation."

"Ah." Mrs. Malfoy said understandingly. She paused. "Your owl's the brown and white one?" She asked, and I felt my heart flutter as I nodded hurriedly, my eyes widening desperately. "He's a handsome bird, I saw him last time I was in your grandmother's study." She said carefully, and I nodded slowly in understanding. "He was there with another owl, a dark brown one, a girl?"

"Minnie." I said softly. "She's my brother's." I bit my lip, chewing on it for a second before I smiled a little at her. "Thanks."

"I was simply telling you the last time I'd seen the bird." Mrs. Malfoy said with an innocent shrug. I grinned at her, now, and she smiled, self-satisfied. "So you're Gryffindor?" She asked.

"Just like Dad." I said proudly, straightening up a little, and she smiled in a little bit of a condescending way. "And Dean."

"Dean Thomas?" She asked. I nodded. "I know his wife, Monica Selwyn? We were in the same year at Hogwarts."

"Monica's my godmother." I said with a smile.

"She's a nice woman." She paused. "I'll write her to let her know I saw you, just since you haven't been able to write recently." She studied me for a long moment, and I bit my lip uncomfortably. "Your father was a…" she paused. "Competitor of my husband's."

"Oh?" I asked unsurely, frowning a little: I hadn't heard someone bring up Dad out of the context of _we used to be friends_ in months. "Dad never really talked about people he was competitors with—he just talked about his friends, I think?" I paused uncertainly. "But I'm sure he liked your husband fine." I tried softly.

Mrs. Malfoy condescending smile returned. "Alright." She paused. "Serafina, you go back up to your room. I'm not supposed to have even really spoken to you beyond getting you back into your room." Mrs. Malfoy told me quietly, and I nodded, stepping carefully away from the door of Wes's bedroom and passing Mrs. Malfoy. I crossed the hallway and walked a little further, before stopping in front of my door. I looked back at the black haired woman with a small smile before I slipped inside the door that led to my staircase, closing it behind me.

Mrs. Malfoy was a little odd, I decided, as I began up the staircase slowly. I swallowed, suddenly, realizing I had no idea where my grandmother's study was. And in this huge a castle, what Mrs. Malfoy had told me wasn't exceedingly helpful, though it was certainly a step in the right direction.

I was a little bit closer to talking to my friends.

……………

_Squirt—_

_No one's heard from you or Wes and we're worried. Floo call us or write us, please._

_Thanks,_

_Teddy_

_……………_

_Sera,_

_Are you okay? Louis floo-called last night—he's freaking out, Ser. You haven't talked to anyone since the funeral—not even James, apparently, and now, of course, we're worried. I assume you're getting these letters because no one's owl brings them back—is your grandmother holding you hostage, or something? My mum's looking into some way where she can visit you—she's a social worker—just to check you're okay, but until there's a complaint, she can't really do anything. Please write!_

_Xoxo_

_Edie_

_……………_

_Sera,_

_I'm really worried. Please write._

_Love,_

_James_

_……………_

Three more letters, four days, and I still didn't know where my grandmother's study was. It also occurred to me that I wouldn't be able to use my owl without her noticing that my owl was missing. But I was willing to run that risk, if I could figure out where the study was. I'd told Wes that Minnie was there too, but we hadn't gotten to talk very long because then my grandmother had gotten home, and I'd almost gotten caught in his room, which meant I hadn't been able to tell his reaction. I'd had to sprint up my stairs and prayed she'd not seen me.

I'd also done a boatload of reading, mostly because I had so little else to do. I finished my summer homework in a heartbeat, and then hungrily gone through two and a half of the books on my shelf, which were all a little old but otherwise none the worse for wear. I'd learned a bunch of new defensive and attack spells, but I figured they'd be useless, at this point: the attacks had stopped, since Spring Break, just before my grandmother had gotten custody of us.

The good news was, I'd written long responses to everyone, so that if I could just get ten minutes with Duke, I could get my letters out. And Duke would take forever, but I knew if I could just get the letters to James, he'd dissipate them. But he didn't have them yet.

So that left me sitting at my desk, staring at the folded parchment in my hands, wondering whether I'd ever get to send these. What if I did have to wait for September first to talk to James? What if James didn't even want to talk to me then—what if he was too mad? Just because he didn't get that I wasn't allowed to write him.

"Hey kiddo." Wes said happily, opening my door and coming over to press a kiss to the top of my head before he fell into the large armchair beside my desk. My grandmother had left this morning and Mrs. Malfoy was here, which meant we had (slightly) more reign over our own lives. And Wes and I took what we could get.

"You are in a seriously good mood." I noted with a half-hearted grin: my lack of contact with James was getting to my head, but I wasn't about to destroy Wes's good mood. Wes just grinned sunnily at me, and I felt my half-hearted smile fade into a grumpy frown.

"I got a letter from Selma." He admitted, pulling a well-folded piece of paper from the pocket in his shirt. He unfolded it quickly, grinning down at it for a second before he looked back up at me. "Apparently Mrs. Malfoy told Monica who told Selma that we couldn't write. But Selma's still going to write me till September."

"You are legitimately sickeningly in love with her." I told Wes with a disgusted look. "It's bordering on disturbing, there, big bro." I paused. "How long did you like her before you dated her?" I asked, and Wes blushed, grinning sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his head.

"Halfway through second year she kissed my cheek as a thank you for not letting the bludger hit her during a super hard game and I've been a total disaster ever since." Wes admitted, chuckling a little. I felt my eyes widen—Wes would have been twelve, halfway through his second year. I was twelve. I'd kissed Jamie's cheek on his birthday and I certainly liked him and he certainly liked me. In two years, would we be like Wes and Selma?

"Really?" I asked softly. Wes raised his eyebrows, nodding once, before he grinned at me, realizing what I was thinking.

"You and James _will_ date." Wes assured me. "It won't be for another two years if he knows what's good for him," Wes continued protectively.

"Hey, it won't—happen—can we not talk about this?" I demanded uncomfortably. "I'm not sure what's going to happen but—I don't—want to talk about it." I pulled a face. "Especially not with you." I said, and I saw a flash of surprise and hurt flick over Wes's face. I felt bad instantly. "No, I don't mean that." I told him hurriedly, scooting back in my chair and lifting my legs up, crossing them like little kids did. "I just meant that you're my big brother, you know? I don't want to talk about this stuff with anyone—especially not with the boy who told Victoire that I was joining a convent or something…" I shrugged a little. "It's like talking to Dad or something."

Wes chuckled. "I had to do that." He said, reminiscing, and I rolled my eyes. Wes had (somehow) gotten it through his head that he was older and wiser and thus had several stories to tell me that were akin to "in my day, we used to walk uphill both ways through the snow. Twenty miles."

I looked at Wes for a long moment, sombering instantly. "Wessy?" I asked softly, and Wes seemed to realize I'd quickly gotten serious. "Are we ever getting out of here?" I asked him, tilting my head to the side, and my brother sighed, swinging his legs around to the front, dangling them down. He looked at me seriously.

"Sera, I'm not going to let you grow up here, okay?" Wes said to me seriously. "We probably do have to tough out the rest of this summer, but chances are, Dean and Monica will get us in October. We'll get a different set of judges, hopefully, and I'll be there, and you'll know what to expect, and now everyone knows that Dad's Mum is insane." He sighed. "And if all else fails, we'll tough it out next summer too, and I get custody of you a year from February."

"She really hates me, though." I said shakily. I did believe that she hated me, but I hated the _idea_: no one who _knew_ me, hated me. Brian hated me, but because I was James's best friend and fought back and sometimes made him feel stupid. Greg didn't _really_ hate me, I didn't think. But my grandmother sort of knew me, and hated me.

"Ser, kiddo, it's honest-to-God not that simple." Wes said firmly. "I know that makes no sense at all but I've seen this stuff from afar with the Landaus—she doesn't hate you, she just hates that her perfect bloodline was messed up when Dad had kids with Mum." Wes's voice softened unintentionally with my mother's only name.

"But Dad's Dad is a muggle!" I exclaimed in irritation, and Wes stood up, stretching his arms above his head for a second before letting them hang at his sides. He put a hand on top of my head and tilted it back, looking at me seriously.

"I'm not making excuses for her." He told me. "I agree with you, you're right, she treats us, especially you, in a way that makes me sick to my stomach." He fixed me with a serious look. "I just want you to understand that while she is twisted and incredibly stupid and so many other things, she's got _something_ she believes that backs her up. Her racism and pureblood elitist crap is worthless, but she is mostly just a really old woman who was raised differently than us."

"I think she's just insane." I told him frankly after a second, and Wes sighed.

"My philosophical statements are lost on a twelve-year-old's deaf ears." He said dramatically, and I grinned, bouncing to my feet. My stomach growled loudly, and Wes grinned, a little disbelievingly, at me. "Or maybe you're just too hungry to concentrate." He noted. I grinned sheepishly. "Alright, c'mon, squirt. We'll get you something to eat." He pushed me gently in front of him, and I just slipped out the door easily, feeling kind of happy for the first time in a long time. Wes would make sure I was okay. Even if I wasn't sure I was.

………………

An hour later, I was wandering around my grandmother's castle. I was far too bored to obey the law of staying within my rooms or Wes', and Wes had gotten much too obnoxious about how in love he was with Selma, leading me to ditch him.

My grandmother had a beautiful castle, for all that she was an actual insane woman. The castle was huge—but it was a castle, so that wasn't altogether shocking—and surprising bright, in most of it, for real estate that belonged to my grandmother. I'd peeked in a few rooms in an effort to locate my poor owl, but I hadn't seen him. I'd inspected the rooms though: they were _beautiful_. To live here with family who I liked and who liked me—that must have been wonderful. Before she had flipped out, Dad must have loved it here with his mum and dad.

I would have loved to be here with my mum and dad.

To be fair, though, and my memories of my childhood might have been highly idealized by my own (accidental) doing, I had _loved_ growing up in my tiny, cozy house. Yes, my house looked like it belonged in one of those fairytales, specifically the one where Snow White comes upon the cottage in the woods filled with dwarves. Yes, my room was probably a closet, in another life. But it'd been my dwarf-housing-cottage. My closet-turned-room. And I missed them. And I missed everything that had been there. Most of all, I missed the feeling of being _home_. You know that feeling—once you've been travelling for a while or away for a while, you got to come home, to your things and your room and your bed.

I didn't have things. I lived out of a trunk that I was hesitant to unpack lest I unintentionally send my grandmother the message that I was comfortable here, in this pile of stones on top of a cliff in Ireland. And the closest thing that I allowed to consider my bed was a twin-size that I was going to outgrow soon at Hogwarts.

It was a sad day when a kid spent her summer break wishing for school.

I turned down another hallway, running a hand through my hair and stopping as I realized that a house elf was standing in front of me. It looked sweet as could be, really cute, very small, clothed in what looked like a pillow case. She—and for some inexplicable reason I knew the tiny beastie before me was a she, despite the lack of factors that applied in people—had a curtain chord tied around her waist as a kind of makeshift belt, and I smiled shyly at her.

"'Ello Young Miss," She said, sweeping into a deep curtsy, and I smiled at her. She had this squeaky little voice—so cute. "I's is Dorothy." She straightened up. "Does Young Miss need something, Dorothy is wondering?"

"I'm fine." I said with a small smile, then it struck me: she might know where Duke is. "Actually—Dorothy, you said your name was?"

"Yesm," She said with a pleased smile.

"I'm looking for my owl…he's light brown? With little white feathers here and there?" I suggested. "D'you know where he is?"

"Dorothy's not supposed to tell the young miss where the bird is." The house elf said anxiously, looking very sad. "Dorothy's not supposed to tell but Madame told me—she _told me_, you see, told Dorothy—that young miss was not supposed to leave her room very much, but young miss is the daughter of the Master and Dorothy _did_ love Master…"

"Master?" I asked softly. "My dad?"

"Yesm, yesm, Master Seamus is a good boy. He used to give Dorothy things to wear—not clothes, because the Mistress wouldn't have heard of it, but used to sew things together for me. What a wonderful boy, Master is." She nodded as if this was an essential truth.

"Wait, wait—my owl," I said, trying to keep the point of this conversation in sight, somehow. "You know where Duke is?"

"No, no, Mistress would have my head." Dorothy said worriedly, shaking her head very worriedly. "Dorothy is bad, very bad, for even thinking of telling young miss, even if she _is_ Master's daughter." Dorothy shook her head again, very fast. "Oh no, oh no, oh no—Dorothy must hurt herself—" I gaped at her for a half-second before she grabbed the wall and promptly began to hit her head against it. I grabbed the back of her pillowcase and pulled her back, turning her to face me and grabbing her shoulders, the way Wes did sometimes when he wanted me to take whatever he was saying very seriously.

"Dorothy doesn't need to hurt herself." I said hurriedly, but this didn't seem to comfort the tiny elf.

"No, Mistress said that Dorothy must not _tell_ young miss—" I struggled to remember what I could of house elves—endlessly obedient, I knew, but of whom? Just their mistress or master? Or also of young misses?

"Wait, no—Dorothy, I forbid you to punish yourself." I said hurriedly, and Dorothy looked up at me, her already huge eyes growing larger yet, though she stopped struggling. I released her carefully, only moving an inch away as I prepared to grab her in case she hadn't listened, but she didn't move, so I dropped my hands to my sides, straightening up. "Alright, Dorothy, you don't need to tell me where Duke is." I told her, and she seemed to nearly collapse with relief at this revelation. "I just need to know which one is my grandmother's study."

"Alright, alright, Dorothy can do that. Mistress never told Dorothy not to do that." Dorothy said fretfully, grabbing my hand with eerily spindly fingers. She dragged me after her, and I had to bend down so as not to rip the house elf's arm off. She was so skinny that I was almost kind of worried about that.

She led me down one staircase, then up another, turning down a hallway with plush carpeting on the stone floor and a wall of huge windows on my left: she stopped in front of a large set of double doors with large knockers. "Is that all Dorothy can do, young miss?" She asked me anxiously, and I nodded, my breath catching in my chest at how close I was to writing Jamie. "Alright, well, whenever Dorothy is needed, young miss need only call for me." She snapped her fingers and disappeared with a soft crack, quieter than apparition, but the noise still made me jump in the relative silence of the hallway.

I turned to the large double doors in front of me, hesitating before I put a hand on one of them and pushed against I heavily, having to leverage my weight against the door to get in. I slipped inside and closed it behind me, turning to face the large room before me.

The ceiling was double height, twenty-some feet high, and there were towering windows on the wall opposite the doors. The other walls, the two that faced each other without windows or doors, featured a fireplace on each side with full bookshelves framing them, as well as staring on top, above the mirror that was above the fireplace. In the middle of the room, there was a large desk—and by large, I mean twice the size of the headmistress's and looking a bit more like a command center than a mere desk—with one of those large swivel chairs that were fun to scoot around in.

I glanced around for floo powder, but found none, but I spotted two cages beside the windows: Minnie and Duke. "Duke!" I cried with a grin, flying across the room to open the cage, and holding out a sweatshirt-covered arm: he hopped on happily, leaning forward to bump his head against my shoulder gently, then looked up at me, a reprimand for not seeing him for so long. I just smoothed down his feathers, before I looked at a very lonely-looking Minnie. I held out my other arm for her, and Duke took off from my arm, flying up to settle on the mantle piece, so I had a free hand to pet down Minnie's feathers, smiling at her quiet coos of appreciation. She took off too, enjoying the tall room, and I grinned at both of the birds for a second before I realized—I could write back. Yes, I had letters to all of my friends in my room. But I could rewrite one—just to Jamie. Now that I knew where he was, I could send him out. I sincerely doubted my grandmother would ever notice he was gone.

I turned to the command center/desk in the center of the room, spotting a pile of stationery and a quill almost immediately. I snuck around the desk, sinking down in the chair and scooching up to the desk, before I grabbed the parchment and the quill, and began to write, very, very fast, all the things I'd wanted to say to James for the last three weeks spilling onto the paper.

………………

_Dear Jamesie,_

_I'm finally allowed to write you! Well, able to is more accurate, as I'm not _supposed_ to be writing you, but I don't think my grandmother will notice, and she'll be out for a while yet, so I have a chance to send this out._

_I miss you so much! I never realized that Dad's Mum would make good on her threat not to let us write, but she has—Duke and Minnie were taken away the very first second that they got here. I haven't even seen Duke until today, but my grandmother's house elf showed me the office, because she's a sweetie pie. She's so cute!_

_Surprisingly, living with my grandmother is kind of okay… mostly because I haven't seen her yet since she showed Wes and me our rooms. We're kind of confined to our rooms—we're allowed out for food because she's much too lazy to supervise our eating schedule—but it's a pretty good system because I'd rather be bored than have to fight with her. Since she's, y'know, insane._

_I love your letters—you have no idea, I've read them over and over again—and I hope you send more. I don't know how often I'll be able to respond because I can only write you when she's out and when I can re-find her office, but I'll try, I promise. I miss talking to you so much, it's worth it. And I hope it'll be okay if I send you the letters I want to go to Louis and Edie and Rory and maybe even Alec—I just can't send more than one letter at a time with Duke since he carried that stupid cursed package that hurt Wes, and I know that I'll be writing you the most of the above mentioned people. Also, and I know I'm asking you to do a whole bunch and I understand if you can't, please tell Dean and Monica I'm okay, even if it's through your dad. Monica sent me a few letters and she sounds kind of freaked out…_

_I've said this twice already but here goes again: I MISS YOU! We spent a _lot_ of time together, when I think about it (and I have a lot of thinking time on my hands, these days) and I don't think, since we've met each other, we've gone this long without seeing each other. I'm actually really sure about that, but I just feel like a big stalker counting those days, even though I have nothing better to do in this castle._

_Tell Lily I say hi, please, and thank you for the beautiful picture of a turtle: it's brightening up my entire room. If she ever wants to send another picture, she should._

_Love,_

_Sera_


	36. Bulletproof

Chapter 36

_Sera,_

_Jamesie told me you loved my picture and that you might not be able to talk to me for a while, but that I could talk to you, so I drew you a new one. It's a zebra. I saw one when we were in Kenya. I also drew you a picture of Albus with Dragon pox. I saw one of those when we were in Kenya too._

_Sincerely,_

_Lily Luna Potter_

…………

_Sera,_

_Harry told us you weren't able to write very often if at all, and I just want to make sure you know how much we all love you… Alec's miserable without your all's company this summer, and I know James is missing you. I'm so sorry that this turned out this way, sweetheart, but we'll fix it soon enough and you'll be safely with us soon enough, I swear. Your dad would be so proud of how brave you're being with your grandmother._

_Love,_

_Dean & Monica_

………_._

_Ser—_

_I can't believe she doesn't let you write! Longbottom told her what would happen—but of course, Dad told me, that was more of a threat than a promise. He wasn't actually able to interrupt your grandmother's daily life unless it was out of concern for somebody's safety. I think that's stupid—whoever said you were _safe_ there?—but apparently, if you listen to my father, sometimes the law _is_ stupid._

_Louis is going to write in this letter because we don't want Duke to have to carry too much back and forth and he has to carry Lily's letter too because Lily's just got this little pygmy owl who she loves to pieces but the animal can't tell its left from its right. It got lost on its way to my uncle's house the other day, and that's like five miles._

_Hi Sera! It's Louis now—your grandmother's insane. The way she treated you at the funeral scared even me, and I think my mother is seriously considering the concept of just leaping on a broom and sweeping into your Irish castle and just kidnapping you. Mum loves you—and Victoire is still upset she didn't get to put makeup on you for the dance. She told me she was going to (with or without your permission). I'd be very worried for next year. Vicky isn't the type of girl to let up. Love, Louis_

_James again: I miss you too…and I ended up not going to the dance anyway. It wouldn't have been as much fun without you anyway. Louis and Edie went, though, and they had a good enough time. And Bethany asked me again. But I told her no._

_Love_

_James _

…………_.._

Surprisingly, once I'd found my owl, things had gotten a lot better, and kind of stayed that way. It'd been four weeks since the funeral, just a week and a few days since I'd found my owl, and Wes and I had sent out letters to only a few people—Wes had sent two with Minnie, one for Dean and Monica, and one for Selma, and I'd sent only the one to James. I'd had to, though—Jamie was by far, I knew, the one who'd suffer the most from my absence. At least, I was suffering the most at _his_ absence.

I'd also done a lot more reading. And learned a lot—I hadn't been able to practice, but I was really interested in the Defensive Spells, so it wasn't that hard to try to learn the theory and the wand movement and the words and sort of believe I'd be able to do it in real life, if I had to. I'd read like, four books full, now. If I got attacked again, I'd be way on top of it. But, as Wes had pointed out, the attacks had stopped since Spring Break, and hopefully they wouldn't start up again. Wes really hated talking about the attacks actually—he was more comfortable talking about his, than mine, mind you—but it was the kidnapping that had really set him on edge. I still remembered me getting to the Ministry of Magic in the middle of the night and finding him crying while every Auror on duty tried to find me. That had been awful.

Wes always got really quiet, though, whenever it came up. Like now.

I'd accidentally brought it up—I swear, it was an accident—but now Wes was just watching me with a very serious expression on his face, as he leaned back against the countertop in our grandmother's kitchen.

I watched him awkwardly for a few moments, biting my lip as I watched my big brother for a few moments, hoping that Wes would somehow just switch subjects, but he remained silent, and tucked a few strands of hair behind my ear self-consciously. "Sorry." I said softly.

"You didn't do anything." Wes assured me quietly.

"I know you don't like to talk about the attacks." I murmured, not letting myself off the hook yet: Wes was too good of a big brother for me to go around bringing up things that he hated to talk about. I owed him at least an ounce of tact. "Especially that one." I swallowed, studying my brother. "Why don't you like talking about them so much?" I asked him after a moment, unable to contain myself. "I mean—obviously, they aren't exactly a fun topic. But even I don't care as much as you do about not talking about it." I looked up at Wes honestly, and my brother sighed quietly.

"Kid." He said quietly. "You have to understand, the, oh, eight hours you were missing that day—they were the worst hours of my life, hands down." He murmured. "Finding out about Mum sucked, but it wasn't entirely unexpected. She wasn't my responsibility." He fixed me with a look attempted to convey to me the panic he'd felt. "I'm supposed to be taking care of you, and suddenly, you were nowhere to be found and you'd been silencio'd at the house, which meant you could yell for help." Wes closed his eyes, taking a shaky deep breath, and then opened his eyes again. "You're my kid sister and I was taking care of you and then you weren't there anymore and you might have been hurt. It was a nightmare."

"You were crying." I murmured, still wrestling with that fact.

"I almost punched Mr. Potter out for telling me everything would be fine." Wes said flatly, pushing himself away from the countertop and turning around to face the cabinets, crouching down to open the doors so he could inspect the contents. "Crying was not the worst thing that happened that night."

"Oh." I murmured.

I didn't ask Wes about the issue again.

……………

"To clarify," Wes said slowly. "You saved a Slytherin First Year's life, and then she was mean to you." I nodded, and my brother rolled his eyes as he ran a hand over his hair, pushing some of it out of his eyes. Wes just gaped at me in disbelief, seemingly too shocked to say anything, because he was silent. He was also apparently too shocked to move, because he'd stopped walking while I'd been telling him the tale of Divya hating me. "That doesn't make, really, any sense. At all." He muttered in frustration, followed by a few curse words I didn't care to repeat. Wes had heard, finally, the epic tale of Divya hating me despite the fact that I'd literally nearly drowned for her. And predictably, he wasn't particularly pleased.

"I didn't say it made _sense_." I muttered rebelliously as Wes and I began to walk once more. We turned down a hallway before I spoke again: we were going to my grandmother's study. She wasn't home, and neither was Mrs. Malfoy, because apparently Mrs. Malfoy's mother-in-law was having some sort of luncheon that they both had to be in attendance at. "Besides, does getting in a fight with a Slytherin fourth year and losing your team one of the championship games make sense either?" I asked him challengingly, and Wes just scowled down at me, ruffling my hair into my face. I stopped to flip my hair, running my fingers through it in an effort to restore it to its normal state, but it was already knotty, so I glared at Wes. "Mean." I complained.

"Nah, but my fight was different." Wes said, without explanation, and I just glared at him, clearly not buying the it's-just-different excuse. "That was justified."

"Mm-hmm." I said skeptically. My brother just rolled his eyes. "So the next time I get in a fight with Gallagher, and I say _that was different, that was justified_, I'm A-okay?" I asked, and Wes fixed me with a stern look. I grinned recklessly at him even as we stopped in front of my grandmother's study door, and Wes just opened one of the double doors, holding it open for me to go in after him, before he closed the door behind us. I wandered up to the desk, and frowned at the empty paper bin that was there. "There's no more paper." I told Wes disappointedly. I went around the desk and sat down in the swivel chair, spinning it so I faced a few of the drawers in the desk, and I opened one. I began to cautiously rifle through them.

"Ser, what are you doing?" Wes demanded, sounding like he thought I was an actual idiot.

"Looking for paper." I said easily, not even sparing him a glance.

"If she notices a single thing is gone or moved, she'll kill you." Wes pointed out, even as he crossed to our owls' cages. I ignored him, closing a drawer filled with quills to open the next one down. I saw paper in here, but I still rummaged around inside the box: I wanted to make sure I used the paper she'd miss the least.

And that was when I saw it.

It was an old piece of parchment that looked minutes from crumbling, just the way it had nine months ago, before Louis's birthday, when Jamesie had shown it to me. I lifted it slowly, my mind racing as I sat up slowly, the yellowing parchment in my hand as I lifted it up to hold in front of me. My stomach seized with fear as I recalled what had happened the last time I'd seen this.

The Marauder's Map.

James had dropped it in the Forest—where the men had attacked us, that very first time, in Hogsmeade, the weekend before Louis's birthday. I stared at the paper, blood rushing in my ears and tears prickling in my eyes as I remembered us in the Forbidden Forest, sitting there, Rory, James and I bloodied and beginning to believe we were never getting out of there.

_"Do we still have the marauder's map?" I asked suddenly._

_"Dropped it." James murmured sullenly. "Where they attacked us—none of 'em picked it up, though."_

Someone had picked it up. One of our attackers. And they'd given it to their _employer_.

My grandmother was behind the attacks—at my attack at the Potters, where I'd been kidnapped, one of the men had gone to report to the employer. Wes's package _had _been meant for me, and _I_'d been the one who the _Punished _sign was meant for. I'd fought with my grandmother the morning we were dropped off at the Potters—that'd been the entire reason we'd been moved to the Potters. It'd been, what, six days earlier? Five? Enough time to come up with a plan and then execute it. And then, there hadn't been an attack since my grandmother got custody. We'd kept saying since Spring Break—but my grandmother had gotten custody just a couple days after we returned to school.

"Wes." I said frantically, my voice already hoarse, and my brother spun to look at me, already alarmed by my tone of voice. "Wes—it's her—she's behind the attacks—" I said frantically, rising to my feet, and Wes stared at me.

"_What_?" He demanded, in a panic.

"This is the Marauder's Map—" I cried, standing up fast, holding out the paper.

"That's a really old piece of parchment," Wes said carefully, looking caught halfway between concern and amusement. "And I don't know what map it is you're talking about, but—"

"James dropped this when James, Rory and I were attacked in the Forest!" I practically screamed at him, my sheer panic getting the better of me. "James _dropped_ it when the people were attacking us and he _thought_ no one picked it up but they _did_. And they gave it to their _employer_, the same one that the man mentioned when I got kidnapped, who is our grandmother, and oh my _God_, it makes so much sense!" I was talking fast, probably too fast for Wes to completely follow what the hell I was talking about, but he got the brunt of the message, because he seemed absolutely horrified. "Wes, I was the one being punished! I was supposed to open the package, I would have died if it had been me, the healer sort of said, and I'd fought with her just a couple days before—and then the attacks stopped when she got custody of us!" I continued frantically. "Wes, this is the _Marauder's_ _Map_. There is _only _one in existence, Mr. Potter's father and godfather and Teddy's father made it and that Peter Pettigrew man who betrayed the Potters—It was her!"

"Are you one million percent sure that that paper is the Marauder's Map?" Wes asked me quietly, his gaze completely serious, and I nodded hurriedly. "Can you prove it to me?" He asked me, and I glared up at him, my panic displaced for a moment by the fact that he didn't believe me. "It's not that I didn't believe you, it just changes whether we remain here for the next five minutes if this is in fact the map thing you're talking about so I need to be completely sure."

I reached in my pocket for my wand, grabbing it and pulling it out, and I touched the paper. "_I solemnly swear I am up to no good_," I murmured, and from my wand tip, ink crawled outwards, curling into letters and designs. _Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, purveyors of aid to magical mischief-makers, are proud to present the Marauder's Map_. The words were written on the page in the same way they had been in October, and Wes grimaced, running a hand down his face. I unfolded the map, showing him the map of Hogwarts, and it's near-empty halls and classrooms, this time of year. Wes watched Patil cross the great hall to talk to Professor McElwee, before he looked back up at me, his eyes wide.

"Merlin," He breathed quietly, and I just bit my lip again, my eyebrows drawing together I tried to figure a way the hell out of this situation. It was a disaster, the kind of failure that Wes and I had never faced before. I'd faced it, once, when we were in Diagon Alley—Louis and me, back to back, with Lily between us in a bit of a futile attempt to keep her safe. That feeling that it was us against the entire universe, and no one would ever come fast enough to help us. "Alright, kid, I believe you—just—Jesus." He sighed. "We need to get out of here and to the Potters and I have no idea how we're supposed to do that." Wes had a point: my grandmother had emphasized to us that the floos were locked to us and that there was a barrier around the estate that would prevent us from leaving, even if we could apparate, which we couldn't. The barrier applied to physical walking, too. We were staying here until she decided we weren't. He pulled out his own wand, and then I heard the creak of the double door to the study as it was pushed open.

"What are you children _doing_ in here?" My grandmother demanded in a lethal voice, and I spun around instinctively, towards the noise. Bringing into full view the Marauder's Map. My grandmother was standing in the doorway, in a summery dress with jeweled sandals on, and I felt my resolve to just crush her like a bug shake a little as I realized that she was clutching her wand already. My grandmother with her wand was nothing I'd ever faced before and I certainly hadn't intended for that day to be todayThere was a moment of silence before Wes took out his own wand and cautiously took a step forward. "Where did you find that piece of junk, it was in my desk and going into my personal things is _strictly_ not allowed—"

"You killed Mum?" Wes said slowly, sounding dazed as he realized what my grandmother being behind this giant conspiracy meant. The final, awful fact in this complete disaster. Whoever was behind this had either killed Mum himself, or had ordered her killed by the lackees who'd attacked us in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley and the Potters' yard.

"I did no such thing!" She protested, but there was the flicker of panic across her expression, the feeling the same as the one that was smothering my lungs right then. She knew she'd done it, we knew she'd done it, and she knew we knew. The jig was up.

Unfortunately, we were standing right here in the middle of the biggest disaster ever.

"My best friend dropped this." I said slowly, and I watched my grandmother's face twist with her comprehension of my knowledge. "My best friend dropped this in the Forbidden Forest when we were attacked by those men—the men you had to have hired if you have this." I stopped, biting my lip as I felt angry tears fill my eyes. A lump popped up in my throat, making it harder still to breathe and talk, but I still managed to stammer out the next sentence, too angry to let her get off with a simple reprimand. "How could you do this to us?"

"Your father signed you up for this the second he chose that filthy girl as the mother of his children." My grandmother hissed at us, raising her own wand at us. Wes wrapped his arms around me, pulling me back against him hurriedly, but she didn't move, so Wes didn't spin us around, so I stayed in front of him. She finally dropped her wand to her side, taking a half step forward, and Wes and I did the only thing either of us could think of to do, because she was old and crazy and we weren't even trained in real dueling: we ran.

She recovered as we reached the door, shooting a spell at us even as we slammed the door shut behind us, and I just assaulted the doorknob with my wand, unsure of the spell but knowing exactly what I wanted to happen, and that sort of thing usually worked out for me. I heard the lock in the door turn, and Wes and I took off, sprinting down the hallway and down the staircase at the end—but even as we got there, there was an explosion behind us as she simply blew up the doors that wouldn't open. Wes waved his wand vaguely behind him, erecting an obstacle in her way, but three seconds later, as we reached the end of our current staircase, the wall he'd brought up exploded.

"Shit, shit, shit—" Wes chanted under his breath as he started up the second staircase two at a time, and then he ducked, shoving me down against the stair case as three curses darted over our heads, rapid fire. Wes glanced at me hurriedly, checking I was okay, even as he got up, and I just nodded once at him in an effort to make him concentrate on the important things—like getting the hell out of here. I winced as I got up—I'd bruise, I knew—but kept a firm hold on the Marauder's Map. I wasn't losing this thing again. I needed proof to show to Mr. Potter than my grandmother was way more than your average run-of-the-mill nut job. Of course, her soon to be destroyed castle would probably take care of that just fine.

Her curses had destroyed the landing of the staircase at the top, so Wes just lid onto the staircase that left from that landing, going up the next way, which the staircase we were on shared an inch or so with: I followed him, before turning and firing a spell to explode the bottom of our staircase the second I could. Our staircase shook dangerously, and Wes tugged me up the last few steps as I almost lost my balance, before we turned into the hallway in front of us. We once more closed the doors behind us and locked them, before we took off down this new hallway. Wes stopped, pulling me into one of my grandmother's several thousand library-type rooms—walls covered in books and a few armchairs and maybe a couch.

"Holy shit." Wes muttered as he shut the door behind me, bracing his shoulder against it. "Alright, alright, we just need to let someone know—" He paused, chewing on his lip a little. "You okay?" He asked me after a second, and I nodded breathlessly. He still had his back up against the door. "Okay…" He paused, watching me for another second, and I felt tears bloom in my eyes: Wes sighed softly before calling me over, and I rushed to him, wrapping my arms around him tightly and squeezing my eyes shut. Wes pressed a kiss to the top of my head, and I just sobbed shakily.

"Wes, she's going to _kill _us." I whispered, and Wes sighed, smoothing down my hair calmingly, but I just hiccoughed. "She'll kill us." I repeated softly, and Wes pulled away, his hands on my shoulders as he looked at me seriously.

"I will never let that happen." Wes said fiercely to me. "As long as I'm okay, you're okay. Got it?" I looked up at him tearfully, and he met my gaze firmly. "D'you understand, Ser? You're safe." He assured me, and I nodded a little. He took a deep breath, seemingly trying to gain control over himself before he released me, and I pulled away, moving to stand to the side, swiping at my eyes tearfully. He closed his eyes, taking another deep breath, and I saw, absurdly, the smallest smile flicker across his lips. "_Expecto Patronum_," He murmured, waving his wand, and his eyes snapped open.

And suddenly, there was a large, silver & shimmery brown bear standing in front of him.

"Saraid MacBride is the one who hired the men who attacked Sera, she found the marauder's map and now we need help. Tell Mr. Potter." Wes said quietly, obviously trying to keep his voice steady, and then the bear galloped away, going through one of the windows and then disappearing. "I cannot _believe_ that worked." He murmured, shaking his head, and I just gaped at him.

"What _was_ that?" I asked in a hushed voice. Wes opened his mouth to respond—and suddenly the wall behind him exploded. Wes and I were both thrown backwards towards the bookshelves, which buckled against our sudden weights, and even as we hit the bookshelves then the ground, the shelves were falling on top of us, burying in hundreds of heavy, heavy books and the other little things she'd kept on the shelves, before the shelves themselves decided to crush us too.

And then I just lay there.

I had never been in more pain in my entire life—by far. My face, my arms, my legs, my ribs, my hips, my back, my stomach—all of it hurt like never before, because I'd just gotten the crap beaten out of me by a bunch of books. I felt tears leak out of my eyes as I considered the possibility of death by books. That would be pathetic. I couldn't let that sit. So I turned over—ever so slowly—and had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying out—something was wrong with my left leg—I'd hurt a muscle or something. And my ribs were not where they were supposed to be, but at this point, the amount of pain I was physically able to feel without being subjected to the cruciatus curse had been reached: no more pain was inflicted by movement, at least, not in my ribs. I shoved a bunch of the books off of me, and then carefully shoved the bookshelf on top of me, little by little, to the side. And then I pushed myself in to something that resembled a sitting position. Or, it would have, but my legs were still buried in dictionaries for several different languages and encyclopedias and other similarly thick volumes.

I looked around: my grandmother was standing in the hallway, just glowering at me darkly, and I realized, startled, that I was still clutching the marauder's map and my wand. I hadn't let go of them even to brace my body for impact.

What kind of idiot was I?

I watched my grandmother for a moment, wondering if she was just going to kill me right then, but she didn't move a muscle, so I put my hand on the ground, trying to push myself up so I could get to my feet, but my arm shook, and I just collapsed the inch back to the ground. I shakily pushed first one book then a second off my legs: if my grandmother really and truly wanted me dead, I was a freaking easy target. But she just glowered at me. I got all of the books off of me and came to the conclusion that I'd had to have torn a muscle or something: I wasn't entirely sure, but I had enough of a grasp of what was going on that I knew it wasn't good.

This time, I rolled onto my knees, very carefully, so I was on all fours, and even though my arms were shaking, hard, even as I put weight on them, I managed to get my feet flat on the ground and stand up, most of my weight on right leg. I balanced my left foot against the ground, my thigh screaming in pain, and I tried not to think about how it was already turning ugly internal-bleeding colors. Mr. Potter was going to know, soon enough, that Wes and I—

Wes.

Even as I looked around at the demolished room, I felt my heartbeat increase tenfold, and I limped towards where I thought my brother probably was, one of the larger piles of books—most likely built up by him beneath them. My stomach turned over as I considered my big brother beneath all these books, tears in my eyes, and they began to flow down my face, accompanied by the occasional hiccup-sob. Wes could survive this—it'd be hard, and he'd hurt like hell, but I had to believe he'd be okay, because or else I wasn't going to be able to continue this. But suddenly a curse seared past me, stealing my attention from my buried big brother, and I stopped dead, turning to face my grandmother again. "_Sectusempra_,"

"_Protego_," I said desperately, and our spells smacked into one another with a small explosion of sparkles. "_Expelliarmus_," I tried, but I was so adrenaline-stricken that I couldn't really aim very well, and it hit the floor before my grandmother, ripping at the rock a little, but not enough to do too serious damage.

"_Confringo_!" She cried angrily, and gasped as the books in front of me burst into flames, one of them reaching out to touch my leg. I winced, trying to hop back, and bending down to brace myself against the fallen bookshelf to my right before I let myself stand upright again.

"_Aguamenti!"_ I cried, and then I slashed my wand at her. "_Deprimo_!" Wind flew from my wand, knocking books and bookshelves away and then knocking my grandmother into the wall behind her. She flew back against the wall, and then slid down against it, disoriented but not unconscious as I'd hoped. "Wes?" I asked tremulously, hopping a little and then biting down on my lip to keep from crying out: I was in too much pain to remain conscious for too long. "Wessy?" I asked shakily, hopping again, before I bent down to put my hands on the ground, to ease myself into a kneeling position in front of the pile of books. I pulled one book off the pile, then another, and I felt my tears heat my face. "Wessy, please…" I said in a voice that made me sound five years younger than I was. I took another book off, and then I looked at the bookshelf, and tugged it to the side a little. My arms ached and a cut across my temple that I hadn't notice before dripped a little bit of blood into my eyes: I wiped it away with my sleeve. This was a disaster. Every body part I possessed felt like I was in Hell, and my thigh was ten times worse than any of that. My brother was out cold or worse (not thinking about that) and I wasn't sure whether the only people who could help us even knew we were in trouble. Or if they were, would they be able to get onto the premises. But chances were, I was going to pass out here and eventually die—or my grandmother was just going to kill me. The only good news was that eventually, someone would know. If my grandmother did eventually end this or she didn't—too many people knew me, worried about me, for something to happen to me without anyone knowing. It'd take a while, probably, but eventually an auror would show up and realize she was insane, and then it'd be done. The trick was, staying alive until then.

"_Avada_—" My grandmother began in a steely tone.

"_Langlock_!" I screamed, spinning to face my grandmother, and she fell silent, unable to continue the spell. With certain spells, mostly the unforgivable curses, you had to have the malcontent of Voldemort to cast them without words. And I didn't think my grandmother was quite at Voldemort's level, though I knew it was approaching crisis level. Especially considering the new state of her castle, and importantly, her grandchildren.

She said nothing, but slashed her wand, and Purple light left her wand: I twisted to the side, and it passed me to crash into the wall outside, knocking out a few stones and knocking them into the outside world, so they fell into the garden. A rush of hot air came into the castle, and I folded the Marauder's Map once more, before I tucked it into my pocket shakily, before I looked up at her, my wand brandished. She had already cast a spell, though, and it slammed into me, and my vision went black.

But I was still conscious.

I was fighting blind, now. De-freaking-lightful. I swallowed, staying straight where I was: I had been facing my grandmother when she'd done whatever she'd done to my face. There was a blindfold on my face but it was flat against my face—she'd probably cast an obscuro spell. I couldn't see anything, and she couldn't say anything. It might have been evenly matched if I wasn't just out of my first year at Hogwarts and she was a grown woman with a vast enough library that it implied she knew quite a lot of spells.

I tried to hold stark still and exhaled slowly, hearing my grandmother's labored breathing. I could do this if I just _concentrated_: I knew where she was, and I knew where I was. I couldn't see her, yeah. But I could hear her and there was literally no other noise to distract me. I could _do_ this. This wasn't like last time.

"_Stupefy_." I breathed. I heard a person collapse.

And then silence.

I swallowed, falling back on my knees and crying out softly at the pain in my leg, even as I just dropped my wand to my side, touching my face: the blindfold was pretty tightly against me. I still tried to tug on the sides, but my fingers just slipped across the cloth. I just swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat, tears building in my covered eyes, and then they fell, and I felt the cloth get damp. I just put a hand on my leg, before I carefully twisted so my legs could slide out from under me and around, my hands grasped around my thigh in an effort to support it. My legs got stuck up against my chest, though, just locked there, and I just held my wand, sobbing softly as I sat there. I wasn't able to even search for my brother—I had to hope and pray that soon enough, someone would come get us, because I just didn't have enough conscious time left in me to get Wes and me out of here.

I heard the frantic sound of apparition, and I jumped, then cried out, pain searing through me. "Sera!" Mr. Weasley, Louis's father, said frantically, and I just sobbed, now, the tears pouring forward and staining my blindfold. Someone said a new spell, and the cloth over my eyes disappeared: I lifted my right arm, which was the arm that hurt less, to my face, wiping away the tears. Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, Louis's Dad Mr. Weasley, and seven other people I didn't recognize were standing in front of me. "Merlin." Louis's dad murmured as he looked around at the destroyed room, and I just stared up at the adults in front of me tearfully, even as a woman with dark skin and dark hair picked her way over to me, crouching down in front of me. "What in the name of God _happened_ here?" Mr. Weasley continued. All but the woman were standing stock still in the gaping hole in the wall that had replaced the doorway, simply awed at the destruction before them. I would have been, too—if my leg hadn't been killing me.

"Where's Wes?" Mr. Potter asked, realizing there was a kid missing from the equation, and I sobbed again, ducking my head, and the woman smoothed down my hair maternally, pointing at the books to my left.

"I'm pretty sure he's over there—she blew up the wall, it blew us back into the bookshelves and then they collapsed…" I said tearfully, and the woman who was crouching in front of me looked up at Mr. Potter worriedly, before looking back at me.

"Sweetheart, were you under the books too?" She asked me with audible concern, and I nodded a little, looking at her desperately. She met my gaze for a few moments before she looked back up at Mr. Weasley, for a moment, before looking back at me.

"I hurt my leg." I said softly, putting my hands under my knee and straightening my left leg a little in an effort to show it to her, and my tears thickened unintentionally as I revealed my multi-colored thigh. I cried out softly as she touched it lightly with her fingertips, and she squeezed my shoulder supportively, her analytical gaze never leaving my injured leg.

"Well, that doesn't look good." The woman murmured shortly as she inspected my leg, before she looked back up at me. "Alright, sweetheart, I'm Angelina Weasley, I'm James and Louis's aunt, and I'm a healer—can I try to begin to heal your leg?" She asked me, and I swallowed, looking towards Louis's dad trustingly. Louis's father was climbing over the rubble to me as well, while Mr. Potter and the other Mr. Weasley searched for Wes—two other aurors were beside my grandmother.

"It's okay," Mr. Weasley told me firmly, and I nodded a little uncertainly. "But kid, what happened?"

I sobbed at this question, and Mrs. Weasley just smoothed down my hair, shooting Mr. Weasley a panicky look. "Not right now, Bill, she needs a healer—"

"You _are_ a healer, Angie, and I need to know what happened." Louis's father shot back.

"I found the Marauder's Map." I said wetly, my voice shaky and hoarse. Mr. Potter, who'd been lifting a book, stopped and glanced at me, his famous green gaze wide and surprised. I bit my lip, leaning my head down so my uninjured temple was pressed against my knees. "James and Rory and me—we used it to go to Hogsmeade." I explained, and I saw James's and Louis's uncle glance up at Mr. Potter, a confused look gracing his features. "And the Invisibility Cloak—but James dropped the Marauder's Map when we were attacked, when we were running into the Forbidden Forest…" I stared up at Mr. Potter. "We thought no one picked it up—but I guess the attacker people did and they gave it to my grandmother because they're working for her—and when I got attacked at your house, with Alec, one of them left to talk to their employer…" The pain in my leg flared, and I stopped talking, grating my teeth together as I squeezed my eyes shut, grabbing my leg and bending my head, so my forehead touched my knee.

"Sweetheart, d'you remember what hit your leg?" Mrs. Weasley asked me urgently.

"When the bookshelves collapsed, and it hit me—it wasn't a spell." I mumbled. "And I think I hit it earlier when I was running."

"What happened after you found the map, Sera?" Mr. Potter asked me quietly, and I felt my eyes flutter, but I fought to keep them open: if I didn't tell them what happened, they wouldn't know until I woke up again. And I didn't want them to release my grandmother if she woke up before I did.

"She walked in—Wes asked her if she'd killed Mum and she said—" I bit my lip, the pain in my leg mounting once more before Mrs. Weasley tapped my leg with her wand, and a cool feeling abated some of the pain. "She said that she hadn't and then I told her how I knew about the Marauder's Map and she told us something about Mum being a filthy mudblood again and—" My vision began to tunnel, and Mrs. Weasley, put her wand tip against my injured temple, and the cut the felt first ice cold, then just felt sort of vaguely warm as it closed. I began to feel more grounded again, so I continued. "Then she attacked us." I said softly. My head began to spin again, and I looked desperately to Louis's dad. "Please, you have to get Wes—"

"We will," Mr. Weasley assured me, and Mrs. Weasley slipped one arm beneath my shoulders, and another beneath my knees. She began to lift me up, and this was my last jolt into unconsciousness.


	37. Magic

A/N:

This chapter is dedicated to a reader who has called EVERY SINGLE FREAKING PLOT TWIST BEFORE EVEN I KNEW THE ENTIRETY OF THE PLOT. Or well, as many as a reader can be expected to. There was some stuff that came out of left field here. But she even got some of that.

How, you may ask. I certainly did. I'm still unclear on the answer, for the record. I'm working on the theory that she's a genius whose brain is so big that the only logical next skill to develop was reading minds.

Her name is molivline. And she has called several things: mcbiatch (Saraid macbride's nickname from Skittles31) being responsible for the attacks, and she's called something that this chapter holds that I won't reveal right this very second because you obviously haven't read it if you're reading this.

Anyway, she should teach divination at Hogwarts. She'd be better than Trelawney, certainly. She possesses an actual ability to see things that have yet to happen.

I was also like to point out that Microsoft Word just corrected my spelling of Trelawney because I have at some point taught it that word and how very, very sad that is.

Happy reading!

………………

Chapter 37

The first thing that struck me as I returned to consciousness was how unbelievably achy every single one of my limbs were.

It was bordering on absurd—my arms, my legs, and then my head. My ribs hurt, but it no longer hurt to breathe. They just sort of hurt, without movement. A pounding ache—like a migraine for your whole body.

And then I heard voices. Not like, _I'm hearing voices_, voices. Just people talked, in a hushed, hurried voice somewhere around me. I was pretty sure I recognized my brother, and maybe Louis's dad, or Jamie's dad—I couldn't quite tell the difference.

I turned my head to the side a little, my neck aching, and I coughed a little as I opened my eyes, trying to focus on something in the room—anything. Lots of things were white, though, and that made it harder—the walls were the same color as the seat part of the chair beside my bed. But someone was on my right.

"Sera?" That was Monica—I _knew_ Monica. "Sweetheart? Are you awake?" I felt cold fingers settle on my forehead, and I blinked up at Monica, my eyes focusing on her face that was not the eggshell color the rest of the room was. "Hi Angel." Monica murmured, a watery smile bending her lips, tears in her eyes.

And suddenly it all came back. The Marauder's Map, the bear that Wes sent out with that message, the attack and my grandmother. The rescue.

"Wes?" I asked hoarsely, coughing a little and bringing my hand up to cover my mouth as I twisted to the side, coughing. "Did they find—"

"I'm okay." Wes said softly as Monica moved back, and he smoothed down my hair, pressing a kiss to the side of my head, before he crouched beside my bed. Wes was in jeans and a rugby shirt, both of which were a little too big for him, and he had a black eye that was so bad he couldn't open his right eye.

I sat up slowly, rubbing at my eyes painfully, and Wes put a steadying hand on my back. I coughed again, looking around—I was in a hospital room, in St. Mungo's. Monica was leaning against the wall to my right, her hands clasped in front of her face as if she were praying, watching me wordlessly. I looked down at myself—I was in a hospital gown. "How long?" I asked hoarsely.

"It's been a little less than a day." Wes told me quietly, and he paused, looking at me for a serious moment. "I woke up this morning, around seven." He continued after a second, the thoughts seemingly disjointed, and I frowned a little at him: Wes only spoke this way when he was building up to something. My brother couldn't repress the smile that was building on his face. "It's all over." He told me quietly. "The aurors started combing the castle around ten—they've already apparently found some stuff that condemns Dad's Mum." Wes's voice was somehow steady; simply hearing the information made my head spin. "Dean and Monica have custody."

"Really?" I asked softly, tilting my head and rubbing my sore neck with my free hand, and Wes nodded once. "It's over."

"It's over." Wes agreed quietly.

"If it's really over—" I fell silent as I coughed a little, and Wes clapped me on the back while Monica just stared at me wordlessly, her hands still clasped in front of her face. "Where's Daddy?"

"They're going to offer her a deal for less time at Azkaban for information on where he is." Wes told me gently. I nodded a little, before I looked at Monica, swallowing a little. She took a shaky step forward, then another, before she hugged me tightly, making my sore muscles wince, but I couldn't resist the hug: I squeezed her tightly.

"I'm so glad you're okay." She murmured into my hair. "I'm so sorry we failed you, sweetheart, I promise you'll never be near her again—" Monica was crying now, her fingers combing through my hair in a comforting gesture. "She'll never get near you again." Monica pulled away, looking at me seriously, before she smoothed down my hair. "I should go get Dean, he's filling out some paperwork, and I should tell Ginny and Fleur you're awake—"

"Are James and Louis here?" I asked softly, even as she released me, and moved towards the door.

"Only Teddy's here and that's only because he pulled the I'm-an-adult-I-can-do-what-I-want card." Wes told me softly, and Monica slipped out the door to my hospital room. "But apparently there's a vigil of sorts going on at the Potters' home." Wes watched me for a second. "And we're released as soon as you're feeling up to walking around." Wes said softly. I nodded a little.

"You're really okay, right?" I asked softly, swallowing a little.

"Definitely." Wes said firmly, before he picked at his clothes. "I'll be better when we can retrieve our own things from the castle, though—Teddy's things don't really fit me." He frowned down at himself. "Teddy's like four inches taller than me."

"I know it." I said with a small smile. I bit my lip, glancing uncertainly at the door. "I really want to see James and Louis." I told him, straightening up and wincing a little. The thing was, though, as sore as I was, I didn't _think_ I had any broken bones. Or at least any left—I'd broken enough in the last months for me to know what those felt like, and nothing was that bad. I might have broken my thigh bone back at the attack, but it was alright now, which was all that mattered.

I glanced down, remembering my thigh, and I pushed down the covers a little, pulling up a corner of my hospital gown: my thigh was still looking awfully bruised, but it didn't hurt without me moving it, which was generally how I measured how badly off I was. "You broke your femur—your thigh bone?" Wes offered quietly. "They fixed it up, though—the bruise is still there, though."

"That's fine." I said quietly, and I flipped back the rest of the blankets, swinging my legs over the bed.

"Hey, what're you doing, kiddo?" Wes demanded, sounding vaguely alarmed. I flashed him a grin, and I eased myself down from the bed, putting most of my weight on my right leg. Wes hovered worriedly, and I swatted my hand at him.

"Mama Bear, calm down." I told him, and Wes fixed me with a look, but backed off a little bit as I put my left leg down little by little. It didn't hurt really, so I put some more weight on it, until I was finally standing like a normal person. "Perfect." I said with a grin, glancing up at Wes, who was just scowling at me.

"Call me Mama Bear again and I'll kill you." He informed me shortly.

"You're my favorite brother." I promised him, beaming, and Wes couldn't hold the scowl up for very long; he grinned after a second and reached out to ruffle my hair. "Wait so do I have clothes here if all our stuff's at the castle?"

"You left some stuff at the Potters' over spring break—Mrs. Potter brought it with her." He said, gesturing to a light, spring-y dress I hadn't seen (now that he'd mentioned it) since Spring Break, as well as a pair of underwear I'd never seen before—I wouldn't put it past the always-sweet Mrs. Potter to buy me clothes if she thought I needed them.

"That's nice." I grabbed the clothes and slipped into the bathroom right off my room, and I unfolded the clothes. I pulled a face as a sports' bra fell out of the clothing. Yeah, that was such a Mum-type purchase as well.

I put on the clothes a little slower than I usually would, and I noticed a couple of bad bruises that wouldn't heal for a while. I pulled the dress over my head carefully—it wasn't too formal or anything, with a white v-neck top that stopped at the skirt-part, which was a flower pattern that was actually really cute. I slipped my feet into a pair of flip-flops that'd been on top of my dress, and then I combed out my hair with my fingers. I opened the door and walked back into my hospital room—which now had Mrs. Potter, Mrs. Weasley, Dean, Monica and Teddy in it as well as Wes.

A little crowded, as you might imagine.

I hugged Dean first, because he was closest and because he was the one Wes and I had grown up with the most—I loved Monica, but Dean and Dad were brothers, almost. Dean lifted me up, and I laughed in surprised, grinning, and Dean put me down before he just put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me against him: I ignored the wincing of my bruises as I grinned up at the people around me.

"_Ma cher!_" Mrs. Weasley practically wailed, crossing to hug me tightly, and I hugged her back, a little unsurely. "_Ma puce_," I didn't know that much French, but I was pretty sure that meant flea, "Je suis _très _désolée que tu avait besoin d'aller avec cette femme épouvantable!" Mrs. Weasley went on in French, as she hugged me tightly, and I grinned, hugging her back as I shot Mrs. Potter a confused look over her shoulder. Mrs. Potter and Dean just traded amused looks.

"Thanks Mrs. Weasley." I said shyly as she pulled back, and Mrs. Potter just smiled a little tearfully at me from her spot beside Dean.

"Hi Teddy." I said happily, and Teddy rolled his eyes, but reached out to ruffle my hair: I stuck my tongue out at him super maturely, and Wes laughed, pulling me back against him protectively. I bit my lip, trying to dim my smile, but it was so big that it wasn't having any of that.

"Are you feeling alright, sweetheart?" Dean asked me worriedly, his gaze landing on my leg. Most of my thigh was covered by my dress, but what was visible was sporting an obviously a huge-giant bruise that had spread down to my knee.

"I'm good now." I told him with a careless shrug. Dean looked at Monica with raised eyebrows, and she just shook her head, smiling a little. I knew my godparents well enough to know they were silently asking on what planet, exactly, was I alright after being attacked by my crazy grandmother?

"Oh, Wes—there's a girl in waiting room." Dean said with a sudden grin, and my brother looked up at Dean, blushing. "She's here for you—said her name was Selma or something—"

"Selma and Wes sitting in a tree—" I sang, teasing him, and Wes glared at me.

"Nope, you don't get to tease me about my girlfriend, there, Sera." Wes retorted. "Remind me again how many people wanted to take you to the last dance?" I scowled up at him, smacking his arm, and he released me and slipped between the adults. I continued to scowl at him until he was out the door, before I blushed hastily, glancing up at Dean and Monica, then to the mothers of the boys that Wes had just not-so-subtly alluded to. Wes sucked.

"Who asked you to the last dance?" Monica asked, smothering a smile, and I shrugged a little, looking down.

"Doesn't matter." I muttered uncomfortably. I glanced around, trying desperately to think of a way to switch subjects, before I looked up at Dean and Monica. "If you're both here—where's Alec?" I asked. Monica obviously didn't fall for my subject switch, but it was a good enough new subject that she decided she'd let it slide.

"Alec's at Harry and Ginny's house—with James and Louis, who I know you want to see." Monica said, and I blushed a little but grinned sheepishly. Maybe I did—_really I was going to die soon unless I saw them_—want to see Louis and Jamie. "We should head there anyway, since Harry thinks we're going to be there and we don't want to miss any updates on the investigation…"

"They all missed you a lot, squirt." Teddy said to me with a gentle smile, and I smiled a little at Teddy. I didn't want all my friends to have the problem of missing me, but it did feel nice to be missed. "I thought James was going to lose his mind worrying." I bit my lip, nodding a little.

"That's why I wrote him first." I said softly. "He sounded pretty worried in the letters." I paused, shrugging a little. "Even Louis sounded a little better off."

"James and Louis and you are all pretty close, hmm?" Monica asked me pryingly, and I blushed a little, but nodded vigorously.

"Best friends." I told her confidently. Monica raised an eyebrow, looking at Mrs. Potter, who was smothering a smile.

"Like father like son." Mrs. Potter said quietly, and I glanced up at Teddy curiously, my gaze questioning the only other sort of kid here—Teddy just shrugged.

There were a few beats of silence before Dean sighed, glancing towards the closed door. "I better go retrieve my godson—then we can go to your house, Ginny, if that's alright." He looked at Mrs. Potter.

"It's definitely alright." She said quietly, watching me.

"Can Selma come too? Wes is going to want to bring her." I pointed out, and Mrs. Potter cracked a half smile.

"Of course, sweetheart." She said kindly to me, and I bit my lip. I didn't quite understand the conversation that had gone on a few minutes ago, but I did understand one thing: I was going to see James.

……………

"Here we are." Dean said pleasedly as he released me on Mr. Potter's front lawn, and I turned my face away from the adults, trying not to reveal the near-panic that apparition still threw me into. I wasn't sure what I was going to do when I turned sixteen and people wanted me to learn to apparate.

There was a soft commotion, and then the door was thrown open, revealing most of the Potter-Weasley clan, including a red-headed little girl who sprinted across the lawn and jumped at me. I giggled, catching her. "Hi Lily!" I said happily.

"Did you get my pictures?" She asked me, her eyes wide.

"I _loved_ them." I gushed, looking down at her. "They were the prettiest thing in my room." That was sadly true.

"Jamesie said you'd like them." She said in a confidential whisper, and I rolled my eyes internally: how very James to actually tell his sister I'd love the pictures while he apologized to me for sending them. I looked up and spotted Alec, and, standing like a half foot away, and Lily, sensing the new subject of my attention, released me and threw herself at Dean, who caught her with a laugh. I just covered the last two steps to Alec in a half-run before I hugged him tightly. Al was a lot taller than me, now—my head fit neatly under his chin, and I turned my head so my cheek was against his chest.

"Merlin, Ser, no more of this, okay?" Alec murmured to me. "I don't like you almost dying, okay? No more."

"It's over." I squeaked to Alec, pulling away and putting my hands on his shoulders. "It. Is. Over. Your parents have custody, Dad's Mum is going away—" I cut myself off, grinning hugely. "It's over. I'm okay, Wes is okay." I felt a twist in my stomach as I considered my father and mother—neither of whom were okay. Or at least, Mum was obviously gone. But Dad couldn't be okay. Nine months of abduction couldn't just leave a person unscarred.

"Sera!" Louis called out, and I spun, before I ran forward to crash into him, and we almost went down in a tangle of arms and legs before we steadied out, my arms wrapped tightly around him and vice versa. Louis pressed his face into my hair, inhaling deeply. "You freaking _scared_ me, Sera," He murmured into my hair, and I just clung to him, biting my lip.

"I thought I wouldn't see you guys again." I admitted in soft voice, and Louis's arms, if possible, tightened, and then he released me as James came up. I bit my lip awkwardly before I couldn't resist the urge to hug Jamesie, too, my arms sliding around his chest easily. He hugged me back, tighter than Louis, and I pressed my face into his shorter shoulder, blotting away the sudden tears of how touched I was in his shirt.

"You're okay?" He asked me softly, and I nodded a little. "Good."

"I missed you." I told him shakily, and Jamie tugged lightly on the end of my ponytail, affectionately. "I thought I wouldn't see you again." I admitted, and I pulled away from Jamie, so Louis, James and I were standing there, a little awkwardly: were they still fighting? I'd missed so much in four weeks.

"I thought we'd never see _you_ again." James muttered, rubbing the back of his head uncomfortably. "Wes's patronus came here—" He stopped mid-sentence, shaking his head a little. "Scared the crap out of all of us."

"Was that big bear thing a patronus?" I asked softly.

"Yeah." James said quietly. "My dad was really impressed, said it was hard to cast one or something—" He shrugged a little. "Anyway, the patronus showed up here to get to Dad, I guess, and the second he heard it he and everyone else were running around to figure out how the hell to get to the castle…" I looked from James to Louis, who was watching me tensely.

"But it's alright, now." I reminded Louis with a small smile. "Because Dean and Monica have custody." I bit my lip, looking at my friends hopefully for a moment. "I'm safe."

"Yeah." James murmured, his arm slipping around my waist. He pulled me against him, and I leaned my head against him. "You're safe."

"What'd you do to your leg, genius?" Louis asked softly, looking down, and I winced, pulling away from Jamesie as I tugged down the bottom part of my dress hopelessly, trying to cover the giant bruise.

"Broke it." I said softly. "My femur—it's the big bone in your leg?—broke when the bookshelves collapsed."

"Great." James said sarcastically as the adults went into the house, and I looked down again at the bruise uncomfortably, before I looked back up at house, and then to Louis and James. The boys were both watching me, waiting for me to call the next move, as I always did.

"Alright, well, I've pretty much been eating toast and sometimes cereal for the last couple weeks, so let's go inside and get some real food," I ordered, and Louis cracked a smile. I began to walk towards the house, bouncing a little as I walked despite how sore I was.

Things were better.

…………

"Wes and Selma used to be cute… but every time I see them together now they're just… snogging." I sighed, hanging my head in defeat, and Louis groaned in sympathy, chuckling.

"Excuse me, Teddy and Victoire? Are you really telling me you have it worse than me?" Louis demanded, twisting to look at me. Louis, Jamie and I were sitting by the pool, our feet in the water. We'd been at the Potters' for two hours, and it'd gotten hot, but I didn't have any bathing suits here, and Lily's were too small and Vicky's too big. Also, I happened to be aware of several large, multi-colored bruises that would give poor James a heart attack, and I was trying to avoid that sort of thing, when possible.

The adults were sitting at the table on the patio, finishing up a late lunch. Everyone was more relaxed than I'd seen them in ages, and as narcissistic as it was, I suspected it had something to do with Wes's and my sudden change in guardianship. "They don't actually say words, anymore—just snog. It's disgusting." Louis continued, jerking me out of my thoughts.

"Mature a little, both of you." James said, acting like he was super cool, and I grinned, shoving his shoulder.

"Aw, shush, Jamie—you thought it was weird when Vicky practically tackled Teddy after that quidditch game too—" I said with a disbelieving grin, and Jamie laughed, looking away and kicking his feet a little in the water.

"Louis, c'mere, I need help cleaning up!" Victoire called out, and Louis rolled his eyes but got to his feet without complaint. Victoire waved at us, winking conspiratorially at me while Louis was still facing me, and I blushed scarlet—stupid Vicky. I was so confused at how Victoire worked—Louis was her little brother, and by all reasoning, she should be on his side of the who-likes-Sera argument. But somehow, she was on, it seemed, James's side.

I glanced up at Louis, away from Victoire, and smiled at him, before looking back at the clear water of the pool. I couldn't think about that stupid who-likes-Sera thing. It drove me crazy.

"It's all over." I marveled softly. "No more attacks. No more cursed packages, no more Punished. No more screening my mail, no more crazy grandmother—it's over." I repeated, shaking my head. I paused for a second, taking a deep breath. "I can barely believe it." I admitted softly, looking up at James. My best friend raised an eyebrow. "And I mean—my mum's—gone." I said, with some difficulty. "And lord only knows where my dad is…" I looked at Jamie. "But it'll be—"

There was the sound of apparition, and I slammed my eyes shut, ducking my head, and James put a comforting hand on my back, even as I felt him twist beside me to see who'd arrived. "Just my dad, Ser." He murmured, and I forced my eyes open, twisting to look at Mr. Potter uneasily. Mr. Potter was breathless, and I raised my eyebrows.

"We found Seamus!" Mr. Potter practically shouted, and I swear to God, the entire backyard went silent as we all stared at him.

"Is he…?" Dean demanded, standing up quickly, pushing his chair back so hard that it almost toppled; Monica repeated the motion, and Alec, who'd been coming out of the house, stopped in the doorway, his eyes wide. Wes was sitting at the table, frozen, seemingly, staring at Mr. Potter. I felt my heartbeat up speed up threefold, and behind me, James grabbed my hand, squeezing it lightly. No one wanted to ask that question. That question that could have that horrible, horrible answer.

"He's been transported to St. Mungo's." Mr. Potter said quickly, obviously sensing that we were all hanging on his every word, and I pushed myself to my feet, feeling dazed with this new information. Dean waved me and Alec and Wes over, but I was staring at Mr. Potter.

"Is he okay?" I asked shakily, and Mr. Potter nodded, smiling suddenly.

"He was talking to me a minute ago." Mr. Potter told me, and I blinked in shock. In order to talk, you had to be alive.

"Sera." Wes said quietly, standing up as well and waving me over, and I started towards him, crossing my arms across my chest. I reached him, Wes slipped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him protectively.

"Dean, you take Alec—c'mon guys." Monica ordered, coming over to Wes and I and wrapping her arms around us. She disapparated with us without much warning, and Wes's arm around me tightened and was joined by another, so he was hugging me tightly against him, and I slammed my eyes shut as the world around me spun. We landed a half-beat later in the St. Mungo's Hospital Lobby, making the guests sitting in the chairs jump, but the nurses barely looked up. Monica grabbed my arm, gentler than my grandmother ever had, and dragged me after her to the Nurse's Desk. Wes followed, seemingly at a loss: it'd been so long since we'd been asked to accept good news that we weren't quite sure what to do with it. "I'm looking for Seamus Finnigan." She said forcefully at the desk, and Wes caught up with us as Monica released me, and he pulled me back against him, his arms locking in front of my chest.

"You okay?" He asked me softly, and I nodded slowly. If Dad was alive…well, I hadn't allowed myself to think that far, hope that far in the future. This morning, the news that Dean and Monica finally had custody, that my grandmother was no longer in my life, had been the best possible news. And now I was confronting the possibility that my father wasn't only alive—he was _here, alright, accessible_. Dad wasn't just alive in the vaguest sense of hope that Mr. Potter could offer us, following the death of our mother. We had an actual shot at a parent, here.

"Through those doors on your left. He's still being treated in the Urgent Care Centre." The nurse said, her gaze glancing off Monica to Wes and me. I almost hesitated—didn't she need to know who we were before she let us in to see our father? I didn't want just any creep seeing my father, if he was injured, which he probably was. He'd been abducted for nine months. But I didn't even bother with the usual glare I saved for people like her. I couldn't summon the energy.

There was the harsh sound of apparition behind us, and Wes's arms around me tightened, because he knew how scared I got from apparition. "Monica?" Dean asked frantically, and Monica twisted to face her husband and son as Dean and Alec rushed up to the desk. "How is he? Have you seen him?" Poor Dean sounded maybe more frantic than I was.

"I only got here a moment ago, sweetheart." Monica murmured to her husband, reaching out to place a soothing hand on his arm. "The nurse just told me he's through the doors on your left—" Dean tore away from us, and I pulled away from Wes, following with a dazed feeling. We couldn't be this lucky. Dad couldn't be okay, after all these months of worry and after Mum and after Dad's Mum getting custody. We weren't this lucky—Wes and I had a documented history of being unlucky.

But then he was there.

Sitting on a cot—sitting _up_, he was conscious!—he was talking animatedly to James's and Louis's Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron. Mrs. Weasley was crying openly, but obviously with happiness, because she was grinning too big for it to be anything else, and Mr. Weasley seemed flustered but happy. But I could barely spare a glance for either of those people, sucking in the image of my father before me, alright and safe. After all these months of worry, of panic. After I gave up hope—admitted to _James_ that I'd given up hope—he was alive. Yes, he had a huge bruise on his face that was partially hidden but his grown-out light-brown-going-on-blond hair. Yes, he had a big scary looking gash on his arm.

But he was _alive_.

"Daddy!" I cried in a strangled voice, flying from the doorway to my father and throwing my arms around him, tears already flowing down my face, and my dad caught me, his conversation with Mr. Weasley abruptly over. "You're okay, I can't believe it, you're okay—" I said tearfully, clinging to him, and Dad just kissed my temple, pulling me down so I was curled up in his lap, sobbing out all the panic and stress I'd spent worrying about him.

"Shh, SerBear." He said hoarsely, but he still had that stark Irish brogue, and I hiccupped shakily as I looked up at him. I was not a crier. I didn't cry this much, not usually. I was a strong kid.

And here I was, crying for what felt like the millionth time in the last few weeks.

Dad just smoothed down my hair over and over again, the motion so like Wes's that I wondered, somewhere in the little part of my mind that wasn't just screaming _He's okay!_, if Wes had picked that up from Dad or if that was just sort of a paternal instinct that Wes had picked up when he'd become my only adult.

"Baby girl, can I say hi to your brother?" Daddy murmured to me, and I heard the smile in his voice. I nodded, blushing a little despite the fact that my face was red and swollen, and I scrambled off his lap. Wes swiped at his leaking eyes, and hugged Dad tightly. "Hey, Kid." Dad said to Wes in a choked up voice, and I pressed my hand to my mouth, shaking my head a little: was it possible that this was _this_ alright? Alec put his arm around my shoulders, and I leaned my head against his chest.

Wes released Dad after a second, his eyes red-rimmed as they always were when he cried, and I couldn't resist the urge to throw myself at him as well, hugging him tightly. Wessy caught me, lifting me off the ground for a few moments, before he put me down, putting his hands on my shoulders to turn me towards my dad, before moving his hands to rest them on top of my head. Dad looked at us, his eyes filled with tears too. So many tears.

"Seamus, Christ—" Dean muttered, swiping at his own eyes in a defensive motion. "You could give a guy some warning when your mother takes a turn for the insane." Monica laughed wetly, tears streaming down her own face as she turned into Dean's chest, pressing her cheek against the material there.

"I would have appreciated the warning as well." Dad murmured, pushing his hair out of his face, a brief fearful expression flicking over his bruised features for a moment before he went back to looking at Wes and me adoringly. He looked completely gross and his hair was oily, and I've never care less in my entire freaking life about personal hygiene. Dad was okay. That was all that mattered, all there was. We—Wes and I—had survived the hell of the last nine months for a reason. For this. We hadn't just survived for a dead mother or a sadistic grandmother or godparents grieving as hard for our parents as we were. We got our Dad back.

"What…" Wes said carefully, before he cut himself off. Then he seemed to regain his courage, and continued. "What happened?"

"I could ask the same about that shiner you've got there." Dad said hoarsely, before he coughed, and a healer who I hadn't noticed before, standing behind him, tapped his throat with his wand, lightly. "What happened?" Dad asked worriedly, his sharp gaze glancing from my brother to Dean.

"Bookshelves fell on us." I offered quietly. Dad looked down at me, his frown deepening, and he made to stand up, but Dean and James's Uncle Ron leapt forward, both of them placing hands on Dad's shoulders in an effort to keep him bed-bound.

"Seamus, we can talk about what's happened once you're all patched up." Hermione said softly, but there was a tone in her voice that indicated that she should be taken seriously. "There are questions all around."

"I get to know why the hell bookshelves fell on my children." Dad said in the dangerous, how-dare-you tone that he got whenever someone challenged his ownership of Wes and me. It sounded scary, but Dad was just protective, I knew.

"Your mum attacked them, Seamus." Dean admitted in a quiet voice. "She attacked them yesterday; they were both released from this hospital this morning."

"What other injuries?" Dad demanded sharply.

"We're okay now, Dad—" Wes began.

"Wes." Dad said sternly, and I, absurdly, smiled at how wonderful it was for my father to exercise this authority over my brother. Then I realized Dad was looking at me, and my smile dropped.

"I broke my leg and…" I looked uncertainly up a Wes, who ran a miserable hand down his face.

"Ser broke her femur—her thigh bone?—and the bone in her upper arm. She had a small concussion, but they cleared it up really fast, and she bruised four ribs and a lung." Wes said exhaustively, looking at my father evenly, in a way that I'd never seen Wes do. Of course, so much had changed. Wes was a grown up, now. He took responsibility for his sister when his parents disappeared and he had a girlfriend and real friends that made me happy for him. "And I had a pretty decent sized concussion, and I bruised like every single one of my ribs and sprained my right knee." He let this sink in for a moment before he followed up, in the save level tone: "But we've been healed."

"Oh, God." Dad murmured, glancing up at Dean unsurely. Dean just looked at Dad, obviously at a loss on so many levels. "What the hell happened?"

"I didn't get custody." Dean said baldly. Dad gaped at Dean, his eyes wide and now frantic. "I just—I swear to God, that Committee had to have been bribed, Seamus. I'm freaking Chief Legal Council at the Ministry, I'm no idiot. And I didn't win." Dean ran a hand over his hair, shaking his head a little, obviously losing his mind as he tried to figure out what the hell had changed the Committee's mind. "Sera testified and Wes couldn't because he was still in the hospital—"

"What in the name of _God_ has been happening?" Dad interrupted.

"Seamus." Mrs. Weasley said firmly, stepping forward. "There's a lot that needs to be discussed. Once you're patched up, well go to the Ministry to talk over things, and then we'll figure out what happens from there." I looked up gratefully at Mrs. Weasley, whose voice was authoritative by nature. It made me breathe a little easier to know that she had a plan, even if part of that plan was _making_ a plan.

But none of that doubt, none of that panic that my father was so obviously feeling, mattered. Because Dad was okay. And we were okay.

For the first time in months, I began to believe the Finnigans might survive.

……………

It took a surprisingly short forty minutes to explain to my father what the hell had happened in his absence. And ten minutes of that had been spent debating whether Wes and I got to sit in on the conversation in Mr. Potter's office, and then it turned out we were the only ones who never got any part of the timeline wrong, so we had to _tell_ the story. And Dad had been pale as anything, at the end, his healthy hand—the other was swathed in a bandage, and holding onto a new cane that the healer had made him swear to use until the next doctor's visit—grasping the arm of the chair so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. He was panicked, and terrified and angry as hell at any number of people.

But he was _alive_.

And I was still cruising on that delirium.

Dad was just left in silence though, a deep silence while he pondered every single piece of my story before he shot Dean an injured look. "Dean, why the fuck didn't you have my kids the second it turned out I wasn't in the group anymore?" Dad asked.

"Because I got attacked and Dean came to the hospital which broke the agreement everyone had made not to see us outside of Hogwarts." Wes said in a careful voice. "Dad, it was a stupid rule and I know you would have done the exact same thing if the situation was reversed with Alec." Alec, from his spot leaning against the back wall of the office, looked uncomfortable with the comparison, but Wes made no apologies.

"My mother's been hunting…Merlin…" Dad covered his face with his hands, exhaling shortly against them.

"It's okay, now." I protested softly, worried that my father didn't understand that while everything that had happened was horrible—he was okay. I still had a parent, which was more than I'd had for a very long while. Dad looked up at me, his expression desperate, and I bit my lip, shrugging a little. "You're okay." I said in a serious but soft voice. Dad looked at me for a long moment before he straightened up with a wince, beckoning me forward. I came forward and he pulled me into his lap, where I curled up comfortably, pleased to have the familiar warmth beside me.

"But your mother isn't." Dad whispered into my hair, and I just closed my eyes, turning my face into the sweater that Dean had given Dad, who'd been cold at the hospital. Dad had lost a lot of weight. "I'm so sorry, baby," Dad murmured to me. I sighed softly—it had, oddly, been a huge relief that Dad had known Mum was dead. Not because I enjoyed the idea of my father mourning alone, in the dungeon of a castle, but because that meant I didn't have to be there when he found out. Did that make me a bad person?

"I'm sorry I couldn't save her." Dad continued after a second. I remember what Wes had said, right after Mum had died. How no one got at Mum without going through my father. How much of that did Dad believe himself?

"Who the hell was she, Seamus?" Monica asked, sounding surprisingly aggressive. Dad looked up, his eyebrows raised. "Who the hell was my best friend? Did she have a name?" Dad looked confused.

"What?" He asked.

"Mum's name is nowhere." Wes said in a strange voice. "And when we offered Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley what we _thought_ it was—Elisabeth Warren—we were politely informed we were mistaken." Wes sighed. "So what in the name of God is her name? Any didn't we—Sera and I, her children—know it?"

"There's a lot of reasons for that," Dad said cryptically.

"Care to share?" Wes continued in that strange voice—he was angry and confused, I knew. I knew Wes well enough at the point to be well aware that even his weirdest moods weren't entire alien to me.

"Her family was a big player in the last Wizarding Wars—except, in Italy. She figured, in England, with a new name, she wouldn't have to deal with her dad being a—" Dad hesitated, but continued shakily after a moment, "Voldemort supporter." I took a deep breath—her dad was my grandfather. My grandfather had been a Voldemort supporter. "And her name was Elisabetta di Olympi." Dad murmured over my head, finally.

Elisabetta di Olympi. I was Serafina Elisabetta Finnigan, sister of Wesley Dean Finnigan, daughter of Seamus Finnigan and Elisabetta di Olympi. I had a mother with a name. A dead mother. Tears jumped to my eyes—it'd taken until my mother's death to learn her name.

And more over, I realized, I didn't _want_ Dad for comfort. I'd trained myself not to dare hope for him. And as much as I loved Wes, I didn't want Wes. Because my poor big brother had all of this crap to handle _too_. I'd feel too guilty trying to lean on him.

No, I wanted James.

Because I obviously had a self-destructive streak that liked to manifest itself at the very worst of times, I didn't want my family. Because my family was as either as badly off as I was or I'd gone so long without that I didn't remember how I acted _with_.

I was suddenly claustrophobic in my father's arms, and feeling guilty about being this way—this was my father. I was so happy he was okay, so happy he was back—but everything wasn't the same. I still didn't have a mother, and I still had learned to function better _without_ adults to rely on. I was self-sufficient, or Wes-reliant. And I was still reeling from nearly being killed a day ago—just a day ago? Really?—and Mum's death. This was too much—all of it, was too much.

"Dad—Sera needs to rest and this is not resting." Wes said in a careful voice, reaching out to grab my hand and gently pulling me to my feet. I looked dazedly up at my brother, and Wes smoothed down my hair. "I'm going to take her back to the Potters—" God Bless, Wes, for reading my mind.

"But…" Dad trailed off, looking impossibly hurt for a second before his expression reverted back to a blank one. Dean and Monica were shooting us confused expressions, and Mr. Potter was watching us with a kind of reserved bewilderment. I couldn't see Alec, but I was sure he was as confused as we were.

"Dad, we love you." Wes said in a tight voice, pulling me close to him. "You know that, we know that—but I have spent the last nine months adjusting to life without you. I took care of Sera, and I took care of myself and stayed as normal as I could—but we aren't the same people you left, Dad. I still love you—you're still my father—but give us—ten seconds. To catch our breath." Wes begged. "Because—Merlin, Dad—your mum was a constant threat to Sera. And yesterday, she tried to kill us, for what turned out to be the seventh time, or something. And two or three of those times, she came _damn_ close to killing Sera." Wes held up his fingers, just a few centimeters apart. "This close. And yesterday was one of those times because Sera woke up in some pretty severe pain, so I can only imagine what the hell she was feeling yesterday." Wes dropped his hand to his side. "Maybe it's just because today's been hell—I spent all freaking morning waiting for this one," Wes put a hand on top of my head, "to wake up." Wes exhaled heavily, pausing a moment to catch his breath. "So just, don't take this personally." He murmured tiredly. "This isn't a you thing, Dad. We love you and we missed you and I'm so freaking relieved that you're okay—" Wes's voice broke. "You have _no idea_ how relieved I am that there's someone to be the adult again." Wes shook his head. "But I've been running the Finnigan show for a while and I need to just—relax, before I let down my guard." Wes said. "I've got a twelve-year-old I've been responsible for for the last couple months. I can't just let things change this fast without thinking what happens to her, and I'm still trying to figure that out. So just—let this sit, please. Let us go to the Potters without reading too much into it." Wes asked, sighing finally.

Silence.

Dad watched us silently, his gaze calculating, and Dean looked heartbroken, pressing his fingers to his forehead and closing his eyes. Monica just exhaled slowly. I just leaned back against Wes. I trusted Dad to have an ounce of sense about this, to understand we loved him but we'd been living in a different world for the last nine months than the one we were in now. And if Wes—Wes who'd had to be an adult, for all intensive purposes—said he needed time, than people needed to give him some freaking time.

"Merlin, guys, I am so sorry." Dean murmured, looking up at us finally.

"Me too." Mr. Potter said tiredly.

"I am too." Monica threw in, her voice tight.

"How did this happen?" Dad said quietly, his voice slow and frightened, almost helpless-sounding. "How could this have happened—Dean—Merlin. You love my kids, I know you love my kids—how could you allow this to happen?" Dad asked.

"Seamus, these kids don't have half the papers of normal children. Their mother does not legally exist in the context that I met her." Dean said in a slow, clear voice. "Let Wes go and call Selma and let Sera see James—"

"Who's James?" Dad asked.

"My James." Mr. Potter said, nodding at Dad. "Sera and James are close."

"Oh." Dad said softly.

"Let them go, Seamus." Monica murmured after a second, looking up at my father. "You need to answer a lot of questions anyway and it's probably best they're not here for the rehashing of your abduction."

"Can I still…" Dad seemed at a loss for what to say. "I mean, can I bring them home tonight?" He looked at Wes, obviously confused. "Is that…alright?"

"I just want space, Dad." Wes said with a shallow half-smile. "I don't want to get emancipated."

"Alright." Dad murmured to himself. "Alright." I looked up at Wes unsurely, and my brother ran a hand over my hair comfortingly.

"C'mon, kiddo." Wes murmured, and I saw Dad glance rapidly up at us. "Let's go."

"I'll see you in a few hours, okay?" I asked my Dad hopefully, and I saw some of the sadness dim on Dad's face. "I love you." I said, chewing on my lip worriedly, and Wes pushed me gently towards the door to Mr. Potter's office.

"Love you too sweetheart." Dad murmured, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards him for a hug: I hugged him tightly. Dad smoothed down my hair before he released me, and Wes put a hand on my back, guiding me back towards the door.

"Alec, go with them." Monica ordered quietly. My godbrother followed us out of Mr. Potter's office, and even as he shut the door behind us, he spun to shoot us a bewildered look, but I just ignored Alec and Wes, even as Wes grabbed Alec's wrist gently to tug him along behind him. We walked wordlessly to the fireplace, and Wes grabbed some floo powder and threw it down.

"The Potter Estate." He said forcefully, and suddenly we were spinning, and then we touched down in the Potters' living room. Albus was sitting there with Lily and Hugo, and he took one look at me before he smiled a little shallowly.

"James is upstairs in his room." Albus murmured. I wove between my friends' little siblings and cousins, into the foyer and up the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. I slipped down the hallway and into Jamesie's room, stopping in his doorway. James looked up at me from the book he'd been reading, his eyebrows raised; he was sitting on the couch under his window, his legs cross as he read. He moved his legs off the couch, though, as he watched me for a moment.

"The thing is." I said slowly and softly, still working through the thought myself. "Dad's okay. But Dad's the same. Wes and I are okay." I paused. "But Wes and I are _not_ the same." I said softer still, frowning a little.

"That's alright, y'know." James murmured. "No one expects you to be the same person you were at the beginning of the year." He paused. "No one expects you to be still standing, Ser. Cut yourself some slack. You've had the year from _hell_ and it's okay to be…" James shrugged a little. "A little scared of what's happening."

I stared at James for a second before I just crossed to him, sinking down on the couch beside him. I looked down for a second before I smiled, genuinely, and looked up at him. "My dad's okay." I said in a soft, dazed voice.

"Your dad's okay." James echoed softly, and then he hesitated for a second, before putting his arm around my shoulders. I just leaned my head against him, still smiling.

My dad was okay.


	38. Made Concrete

Chapter 38

Wes's POV

Wes tried to ignore the shadow looming over him by simply deciding he'd ignore it. If he ignored it—and who was causing it—it might go away. But when a full minute passed and the shadow hadn't moved, Wes lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the too-bright sun before opening his eyes. "Dad?" He asked, squinting, and his father took off his sunglasses and pressed them into Wes's hand. Wes shot him a half-smile and put them on, sitting up properly and crossing his legs, so his father could sit on the end of his lounge chair. Considering that the man had just given him his sunglasses, Wes could spare the space. Especially since his Dad had some trouble walking since he'd come back.

It'd been only a day since Dad had come back, and they were all staying at the Leakey Cauldron. Wes and Sera and their dad all crammed into one room, because they barely had enough money for that—the Finnigans hadn't had a job in months. Obviously Wes's dad wasn't able to bring in money, and enough time hadn't passed that Wes had had an opportunity to get a job. Also—and Wes felt like a complete brat thinking this—Wes wanted a break. And figured he kind of deserved one. But he would have rather died than voice that, so instead he had just spent most of the day by the Potters' pool, supervising James and Sera and whoever else managed to bounce in there.

They—Sera, his father and he—had had a long talk the night before about Wes's mum. Elisabetta di Olympi had been from a prominent Italian family, the only child of a Voldemort Supporter. Her father was long since dead—right after Wes had been born—and her mum had died when Sera had been a toddler. Elisabetta had inherited quite a bit from her parents and that had passed to her children when she'd died. Wes evidently had quite a bit of inheritance now, as well as the di Olympi Villa in Tuscany and a home in Rome that his dad hadn't known much about. Wes's Mum had never told his dad much about any of it—she hated the idea that her parents had anything to do with her children. Wes was fine with that, though. He had enough crazy family. He didn't need more.

Wes had also surprised himself with being fine with his father's explanation for why, legally, Sera and he had no mother: Wes's mum hadn't wanted her mother tracking them down. She didn't trust the woman and hadn't talked to her in years, and Wes's mother was sure that her mother would somehow find her children if she could track them down. And her talking to Wes and Sera would have been the end of the world—and then she'd died, and Seamus and Elisabetta somehow had never gotten around to changing their children's birth certificate. And while that made Wes mad, he now had enough experience with his Dad's Mum that he thought it was probably best that he hadn't had a second crazy grandmother to get in on the chase.

As to why his parents had lied to them that her name was Elisabeth Warren, Wes and Sera hadn't asked, and his dad hadn't offered the information. Wes was just happy his dad was back, even if things weren't perfect.

"We need to talk." Wes's dad murmured to him, and Wes watched his father wearily. He wasn't sure how things had gotten this way. He knew he'd scared Dad at the Ministry, when Dad had just gotten back and suddenly Wes had seen Sera and Dad and realized, starkly, that he had an urge to protect Sera. From their father. And Dad had never hurt or hit them. He had a temper, but he would never take anything out on his children. But Wes knew that he was a different person, Sera was a different person, than the kids that Dad had accidentally left behind. Wes didn't want to talk, though.

"I guess we do." Wes said quietly, looking away for a minute before he looked back at his dad. "Hey, I'm sorry about what happened at the Ministry." He said softly. "I didn't…I'm so freaking happy you're okay, Dad. Just…" Wes looked away again, to where Sera was playing Water Polo in the pool with James and Louis and Lily and Victoire and Teddy. "I've been taking care of her for a couple months, now." Wes looked back at his dad. "I had to put her first. All the time. I still do. And I don't…I don't know how okay you are." Wes was being honest—the only way to approach this was completely honestly, even though it might have seemed awkward, Wes's dad deserved that. "And that's understandable. You were held hostage for a _hell_ of a long time, Dad." Wes paused, letting that thought sit, just for a moment. "And Mum's gone, and it was _your_ Mum that was holding you hostage." Wes fell silent for another moment, not wanting to push his dad through all of this again, just trying to excuse Wes taking Sera from him three days ago. "I can't let her rely on you again if it turns out you're only at eighty percent." He said in a quiet, clear voice, the point of what he was trying to get across. "No one could blame you for it, because you spent nine months in hell, but Sera comes first in my book now. Which means I need to know if you're not okay, so we can take care of it before it hurts Sera." Wes sighed. "Therapy, whatever, it doesn't matter. Just, if you need help, let me or Dean or someone know so Sera doesn't reap the consequences of what happens if you need it and you don't get it."

Wes's dad was watching his son with a kind of knowing smile, but there was something incredibly depressing about it. "It's odd, isn't it." He asked, more a comment than a question, and Wes just sighed tolerantly.

"What?" Wes asked, when his dad didn't continue. His dad wasn't even looking at him anymore, though, and had looked back at Sera. Wes followed his gaze, but sister was fine, and he trusted Teddy to make sure she didn't drown, so he just looked back at his father. Just when Wes was considering repeating the query, his dad spoke.

"It's odd how easy it is to start being a parent and how hard it is to stop." His father murmured, and Wes winced. He knew it was true though—it'd actually been Selma who originally pointed out how true it was, when Sera had gotten sick before the quidditch match. She'd said it was really sweet how nice Wes was to Sera, how worried he was. Wes brushed it off—he'd always been a little protective of his baby sister, though he hadn't really done anything about it until this year—but it'd stuck in his head for some reason. And then, over Spring Break, when she'd been kidnapped, it'd been much too obvious to avoid that he wasn't just her big brother, but more like a parent. But the problem wasn't becoming Sera's parent—it was how to switch back that was hard. "I have no idea what I'm going to do without Bethy." His father told Wes, and Wes looked away, towards the house, hoping that Dean would be standing there to help out with his emotional wreck of a father. He wasn't, though, so Wes racked his brain to come up with something sensitive and kind to say.

"You get used to things." Wes found himself saying to his father after a moment. "Even when it seems incomprehensible, you eventually get used to it." Wes scrubbed at his face, barely believing the words he was about to say to his father. "Dad, I think Sera and I should stay with Dean and Monica." Wes said carefully. He wouldn't have had the guts—aw, hell, Sera couldn't hear—the _balls_ to say this to his father, if he hadn't seen Sera this relaxed with Dean and Monica and the Potters. If Sera wasn't still bruised, still healing—if Wes wasn't still bruised and still healing—Wes might have been able to stick it through the next few months. But his father barely knew him, anymore: barely understood that Sera needed to be taken care of and Wes's dad wasn't up for doing that. Sticking her in a house with a man who was still working through things as big as kidnapping and death and whatever had happened to Dad in the months he'd been gone—Wes couldn't do that to the kid. She was too happy with Dean and Monica and Alec, seeing James and Louis every day. "She's comfortable with them, and we don't even have a house. She needs the stability, Dad, and I wouldn't mind it."

"James! Catch!" Sera cried, laughing, as Lily jumped in front of her, preparing to tickle her. Sera was holding the ball above her head, before she chucked it over Lily and to James, who caught it with a grin.

"You both grew up so much." Wes's dad murmured. "I barely know you." Wes didn't say anything. He didn't even say anything when he was pretty sure the man had swiped at his eye, wiping away what might have been tears. Wes thought for a moment that this was about to happen, that his father was somehow about to acknowledge that Wes and Sera should stay with Dean and Monica, and Wes was immediately regretting his statement. "But Wes," His dad said quietly, continuing, his voice stronger. "You are my children, and I love you." He turned back to Wes, meeting his gaze bravely, and Wes suddenly felt prouder to have Seamus Finnigan for a father than he ever had in his entire life. "So I'll just have to get to know you." Wes's dad said firmly, and Wes swallowed, before he leaned forward and hugged his father tightly. Wes's dad hugged him back, tighter. "I'm not giving up on this family, yet, Kid. And neither are you." His dad murmured, and Wes felt relief smother most of his major organs, calming his heartbeat, which had sped up because of anxiety about two days ago and Wes hadn't allowed it to slow.

The Finnigan Family was damaged, and missing a member, but they would survive the storm.

…

Sera's POV

"Sera, James," James's grandmother called out from the edge of the pool closest to the house: James stopped tickling me long enough to look up at his grandmother, allowing me to do the same. "Be dears and go get lunch, won't you?" James's grandmother asked us kindly, and James nodded. We detangled and I swam to the edge of the pool, hoisting myself up on onto the edge. I pushed myself to my feet, wincing as my several thousand bruises came into the open. Wes and Dad (that still felt weird to say) were sitting on one of the lounges beside the pool, both of them watching me, and I saw the new lines on Dad's forehead and around his eyes deepen as he saw the bruises on my ribs and back and neck, and the massive one on my thigh.

"Sweetheart, do those hurt?" Dad asked worriedly, and I saw Wes's gaze sharpen a little, as he shited in his chair: he was so overprotective. I shrugged a little.

"Not any worse than some other stuff." I said carefully: I didn't think it was a good idea to bring up that I spent most of my time recovering from huge injuries. Wes winced, rubbing the back of his neck as Dad twisted to glance at him, before Dad turned back to me.

"Oh." He said finally. I heard James get out of the water behind me and I crossed to where I'd put my things, on one of the chairs, and I stepped into my shorts, pulling them up easily. I frowned at the chair—where was my shirt?—before realizing that I'd left my shirt in the room.

"Jamie, can I borrow—" James chucked me his zip-up hoodie without another word, and I pulled it on comfortably, zipping it up most of the way. "Thanks." I said with a grin, and he just nodded silently, his nervous gaze flicking to Wes, behind me—Wes had James living in fear, now. Ever since that talk that had almost destroyed James and me, James hadn't actually talked to Wes, and I couldn't really blame him. James was kind of reserved to begin with and my brother had decided to push—Jamesie, me, whomever—into his firm belief that James and I might have maybe on some planet liked each other.

But I was twelve and James was twelve so we were pre-programmed to be really awkward anyway.

"Oh, Daddy—did I ever introduce you to…" I gestured at James, realizing, suddenly, that it was possible that James had never met my father. Dad shook his head, his gaze flicking from me to Jamie, and I grinned, grabbing Jamie's hand and pulling him forward, so he was standing in front of my brother and my father, before I released his hand deliberately, smiling. "Daddy, this is James Potter. Jamesie, this is my dad."

"Hello Mr. Finnigan." James said boldly, sticking out a hand to shake, and Dad shook his hand carefully with his uninjured hand, looking at James seriously.

"James." Dad said with a nod. "You're in Sera's year at Hogwarts?" I fixed my father with a look—Dad _knew _that. He was just being a big creep and taking his opportunity to intimidate a boy who I knew. Before Hogwarts, I'd heard a hundred times about how much fun it'd be to introduce a boy to Mum and Dad, and for the first time, I was getting that experience. I'd had guy friends at my muggle school, but those hadn't been the same, because they weren't going to last past age 11. My dad had made his best friend his first week at Hogwarts and that same man was his children's godfather. I knew he took friends seriously—especially male friends of his baby girl.

"Yes, sir." James murmured. I looped an arm around Jamie's shoulders, and Jamie put an arm around my waist, his hand resting on my hip, right at the top of my shorts.

"You like Hogwarts?" Dad pressed, his eyes narrowning significantly, and I fixed him with a glare: how did my father not understand that James was important in my life, and that my father didn't get to just ask these angry, pressing, none-of-his-business questions.

"I like most parts of it." He said honestly, and Dad nodded.

"You play quidditch?" He demanded.

"Yes, sir." James said quietly, and I raised an eyebrow at my father.

"What position?" Dad asked, and I couldn't resist grinning, and I turned in towards Jamesie, pressing my face into his shoulder for a moment in an effort to smother my laughter. Jamesie put a hand on my back, and I turned back from him after a moment, grinning at Wes over Dad's head—but I knew Wes was grinning for a very different reason. Wes thought James and I liked each other and if we were within ten feet of each other, that further evidence. I thought it was funny that my father was acting this way: I knew that my father considered being a beater the only acceptable position on a quidditch team. He thought seekers were pansies (his words), and keepers thought too hard. And Wes was a beater and I was a chaser so there wasn't too much he could say about that. But I knew he didn't respect the chaser position very much, though he swore to me that if I played aggressively enough, it wouldn't matter.

"Beater." James said firmly. Dad nodded solemnly.

"You get good grades?" Dad asked.

"Daddy!" I protested with a kind of crazed grin, turning towards James apologetically. "You do not have to answer that," I assured him, and he put his arm around my shoulders: I leaned against him almost instinctively—it was _that_ automatic at this point.

"I got Os in Transfiguration, Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, Es in Muggle Studies, History of Magic and Herbology, and an A in Potions." James listed. I snorted in laughter at the last grade, and Jamie pulled away to throw me a dirty look. I grinned kiddingly, and James raised an eyebrow.

"You got the same thing in Transfiguration." James muttered. I chuckled, pushing my hair out of my face distractedly, before I looked back to my father, still grinning, and my father raised an eyebrow, sighing as his gaze flicked from James back to me.

"I got Os in Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Muggle Studies, Herbology, and Potions, and an E in History of Magic, and an A in Transfiguration." I told Dad with a proud grin.

"My daughter got an O in Charms?" Dad demanded, looking incredulous. "_My_ child?" He looked towards James's Mum's Mum, who had been standing at the edge of the pool and had since begun to approach. "Mrs. Weasley—"

"Trust me, dear, we all had a good laugh that Sera inherited your mother's charms' skills and not yours." Mrs. Weasley said with a generous smile, and I blinked at the positive mention of my grandmother. Mrs. Weasley must not have been familiar with, oh, any number of printed media sources, because my grandmother had been on all of them, in the last months, in association with me, and her hatred/abuse of me. "Saraid and I had a good laugh about the first time you blew off your eyebrows—"

"You were friends with my grandmother?" I asked, shocked. Saraid MacBride was the antithesis of Molly Weasley. I did not know much, but I knew _that_. Mrs. Weasley gave me a sweatshirt with my initial on it that was too itchy and too big and perfect.

James's grandmother smiled sadly at me. "She used to date my brother, when we were all back at Hogwarts and I was Molly Prewett." She pulled some of her graying red hair over her shoulder. My head spun with this knowledge, and I looked wildly at James—my grandmother had dated his great-uncle. Ew. James just looked caught halfway between super disgusted and very confused.

"But Molly's brother was killed by Voldemort." My dad said quietly, his voice respectful. "And my mother married a muggle who was the exact opposite of Fabian." He glanced up at Mrs. Weasley, an apologetic smile on his face. "And they had me."

"Your mother was very much in love with Fabian, Seamus. We were all sure…" Mrs. Weasley's voice faded off, as she looked away, and I was fairly sure there were tears in her eyes, but then she looked at me. "Distant history." She said, her voice coming back, suddenly. But I'd latched onto the words she'd said: Fabian Prewett was Mrs. Weasley's brother, and Mrs. Weasley had been, as far as I was aware, raised in a family that was 'good,' or rather, not elitist despite their pureblood status. My grandmother had apparently not always been so elitist and angry. As far as I understood, my grandmother had been dating Fabian and then Fabian had died, and not longer, she'd married Dad's Dad, who was a muggle and essentially the opposite of Fabian. Oddly, that suddenly made a little more sense—all her insanity wasn't, suddenly, just insanity. She'd rebounded from her dead boyfriend—who everyone apparently thought she'd get married to—and married a muggle, had a son so it was too late to undo it without putting my father through having divorced parents. And she loved my dad more than anything, put him first. So she was stuck in this marriage and ended up resenting her husband for it, who happened to be a muggle.

And suddenly, she'd gone from being a resentful housewife to being an elitist woman who killed her supposedly muggleborn daughter-in-law and kidnapped her son and attacked her grandchildren.

I nodded uncertainly to Mrs. Weasley in an effort to make it seem like I hadn't just reasoned through all of that, and she dug into her pocket, pulling out some muggle money and a folded piece of paper. "This is the grocery list, please get everything on it, and here's money." She told us emphatically, holding up the paper separately, and pressing it into James's extended hand, closely followed byt he money. She smiled at Jamie and I, and I grinned up at her: I liked Mrs. Weasley. She was nice, but I kind of got a tough-as-nails vibe from her that was kind of comforting. What with my tendency to attract danger, I liked to know that the people around me wouldn't shatter at the first sign of trouble. "Thank you, dears."

"It's a safe neighborhood?" Dad asked, such a reflexive question for him, and I grinned to myself: I liked having him back, even if I wasn't entirely sure what to do with my entirely Wes-reliant world.

"You think I'd let her go if I thought it wasn't safe?" Wes demanded, sounding a little hurt, frowning at my father. I rolled my eyes, but grabbed Jamie's forearm, preparing to pull him away. I wanted to explain to him what I thought about my grandmother—how I believed that somehow,

"It's a very good neighborhood, Seamus." Mrs. Weasley said with a soft smile for my father. "And so you know, Wes did his due diligence before the first time Sera and James ran out for something for the family." She smiled. "Wes has been taking care of Sera incredibly well, Seamus. You should be very proud."

"I am." Dad murmured, glancing back at Wes, who sighed, looking away from our father to me, before his eyes narrowed.

"You have sunscreen on, dork?" He asked, and I pulled a face, shaking my head. "You're gonna burn." He told me with raised eyebrows, and I grinned sheepishly at him; he rolled his eyes, before he grabbed a baseball hat from the table that I knew was Teddy's, and he shoved it at me. I sighed in irritation. "Wear it." He ordered.

"This isn't mine, isn't yours, isn't James's—" I protested.

"I know Teddy Lupin and he will not begrudge you his hat." Mrs. Weasley said firmly, and I sighed, putting it on my head, and I glanced at James displeasedly from under the baseball cap. James raised his eyebrows, and I sighed exasperatedly. "Alright, you two, get going." Mrs. Weasley ordered. James gently pushed me in front of him, and I glanced back at James with a competitive grin on my face.

"Race you to the street." I offered, and James and I took off, sprinting. I raced around the house, jumping the fence on the side of the house, and James caught up with me as we reached his front path, and then down his driveway. James hit the sidewalk a half-second before I did, and I sighed in exasperation as I stopped myself, spinning to face James, a little out of breath. "Ugh, this isn't fair."

"Yeah, sure." James said, scoffing.

"I broke my leg like two days ago—" I protested, grinning good-naturedly, and James just rolled his eyes, starting down the sidewalk, towards the main town. I bounced forward a few steps, catching up with him. We walked forward a few steps before that awkward urge to speak about my mother seized me, but I was with James, and I knew he understood, so I let myself talk. "So I got to know about my mum." I told James with an uncertain smile, and my best friend looked at me sharply. He knew how important this was to me. "Her name was Elisabetta di Olympi, she was born on July 17, 1982, and she grew up in Italy. She didn't go to Hogwarts, but she went to the magic school in Venice—I forget what it's called—and her dad died when Wes was born and her mum died when I was really little." I shrugged. "We inherited some stuff from them, but Dad said since they were Voldemort supporters, he wasn't sure how much of the stuff wouldn't have something to do with the dark arts." I shrugged a little. "And we don't want that." I bit my lip a little. "She was an only child, and she didn't put her name on our birth certificates because she was afraid her mum would track us down through her, and she really didn't want her mum to have anything to do with us." I grinned, looking up at James, but he had to have seen the kind of sadness there. "She never registered a floo or anything because she didn't want her mum to know where we lived. Kind of ironic that Mum and Dad worked so hard to keep away one grandmother when it was really the other who was trouble." I sighed a little bit.

"At least…" James paused, looking at me seriously. "At least you know everything now. At least everything is going to be okay, now." James murmured. "I know it sucks to know this all after she's—gone," James swallowed, "But at least you know."

"Yeah." I said half-heartedly, before I swallowed, looking up at Jamesie with a genuine smile as we turned a corner. "You're a good friend, you know that, right?" I asked softly, and James blushed immediately. "Seriously, Jamie. You've been an incredibly good friend, sticking with me through all this crap—"

"If I'd abandoned you through all this crap, I'd be a sadist, you realize that, right?" James said defensively, and I raised an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't be a sadist. You'd be a kid who would barely know me if you hadn't held me hostage on the train to Hogwarts." I said, shrugging. "I mean, you could have just stuck with Rory and Louis and Edie, even, and had a pretty normal year. And instead you hung with me and suddenly you got attacked and crap." I shrugged. "I guess I'm trying to thank you."

"It's not like you were that hard to be friends with." James retorted, still blushing. "You're a—good person. And I know that sounds stupid, but—" James ran a hand through his hair, obviously flustered. "You're a better person than a lot of people. And you're brave, and you're funny—" James was so red, now, that I feared he was going to turn purple, and I felt a heated blush claw up my own cheeks as well. "And you could have just followed Daisy and Bethany and been weird and giggly all year, and instead, you just…didn't. Because you're better than them." James's voice had gotten so quiet at this point that I would have guessed another few decibels lower would have been whispering.

"Thanks." I said after a second, smiling a little, touched. That was an awfully sweet thing to say.

James and I turned the corner onto main street, now, and we walked a block and a half in companiable silence, letting what we'd just said settle for a few seconds before we dared to plow on. We walked into the store, and Jamesie pulled the grocery list out of his pocket, unfolding it. "Balsamic salad dressing," He murmured, the first thing on the list. I glanced around the grocery store—I'd only been here a few times before—before I shrugged and started down the first aisle, looking around.

"Thanks for being nice to my dad," I said after a second, glancing back at James, who'd begun to follow me. James raised his eyebrows.

"Lots of thanks going on today." He noted, and I chuckled.

"Well stop doing such nice things for me, Potter." I said kiddingly, grinning at James. "A girl can't help but thank you for all the favors you do." I shrugged as if helpless, and James snorted in laughter. "No, but really, thanks. I know he can be a little…" I tilted my head to the side, thinking of the word, "Protective, I guess." James's face slid into a stonier expression, and I raised my eyebrows, before turning onto the next aisle.

"It was fine, he wasn't that bad or anything." James muttered, shrugging.

"He was a little that bad." I said apologetically. "You shouldn't have had to tell him your grades." I glanced back at him, trying to emphasize how seriously I meant that with my expression. "He gets weird sometimes." I said, my only explanation. I knew my father had gotten weird because James was a boy and I was a girl, and everyone and their brother was sure that we liked each other. Wes, being the jerk he was, had probably offered that explanation to my father. But I wasn't about to offer that information to James—he got extremely sketchy every time that anyone talked about really anything like that. Even my invitation to the dance had been unorthodox, if extremely sweet. "And I understand the protective thing."

"I know you do." I muttered under my breath.

"What?" James asked suspiciously, but I saw a glint of humor in his eyes.

"Nothing," I bluffed with a charming smile, and when James's suspicious expression didn't fade, I laughed softly, turning and stepping in front of him so I was facing him. I took off my hat and put it on his head, tilting my head to the side. James was watching me completely seriously, now, and I blinked, my smile fading as I realized how serious things had gotten, so quickly. This always happened with James and I—we always sort of just started to do something else, and somehow, something else faded into one of those little moments that should have been photographed and put in a scrapbook called James and Sera's awkward moments. I wasn't sure it would fit in one scrapbook, though.

James reached up and carefully tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and then his fingers slid, somehow, down my cheek and behind my neck, so his hand was cupping the back of my neck. And I _knew_ what was about to happen. I knew, I knew, I knew.

And I didn't stop him.

James pulled me forward the half inch it took to close the space between our faces, and he kissed me, shortly, before he pulled back, his hand sliding off. It only lasted a half-second, but it still sent an electric shock through me, already happy without even truly understanding the extent of it. A slow smile unraveled across my face, and James, despite his usually expressionless exterior, grinned. And then someone else walked into our asile, and then I turned away awkwardly, realizing we were standing in front of the salad dressings. I tried desperately to concentrate on them, but I couldn't help but think about Jamesie, the butterflies in my stomach threatening to make me start giggling. James didn't say anything, his arm slipping around my waist silently. I ducked my head, grinning, my hair falling to cover my face, and James sighed happily. I grinned at the ground: James liked me. I liked James. My dad was okay. Yes, my mum wasn't okay. Yes, I had an insane grandmother who'd tried to kill me more times than I could count on one hand. But things were…alright, for the most part. Even if they weren't, that was kind of okay.

I had Jamesie.

…

FIN. FINITE. FINISHED.

MY FINAL AUTHOR'S NOTE

All the above are indicators that things are over, done with. This story has taken me nine months to complete and it makes me happy and proud and it's only the second novel-length thing I've ever finished. This story was technically written by me, yes. But the fact that I had any ability write this story at all was largely due to the following people:

Skittles31

Molivline

The above three are my (incredible) friends. And they kept me from losing my mind while I tried to scribble down chapters of this crazy thing in my Biology notebook and in the margins of Romeo & Juliet.

Big thanks also go to all of my reviewers, and those who have (to my knowledge) been following this story from the get-go or at least a while are bolded:

**Skittles31**

**Molivline**

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**.4life. (Special Shout Out For being 2nd Ever reviewer)**

**KaitlynEmmaRose (Long term follower)**

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**PJOnHP (Special Shout Out for being one of the reviews that made me continue after chapter 7)**

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Thank you guys all so much…and to everyone reading this chapter. :D I hope you loved the story, and I always want to hear if you did, or didn't, and why.


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